


Dauntless

by casesandcapitals



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Phobias, Underage Drinking, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casesandcapitals/pseuds/casesandcapitals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard was born and raised in the Abnegation faction. He tries to be selfless, he really does, and with the Aptitude Test coming up, he doesn't really know where he'll end up. But when the Dauntless train crashes Gerard begins to wonder; was it selflessness or bravery that made him run in to save a boy's life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dauntless

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the book/movie Divergent. You should probably read/see it before you read this.

The sun is hidden by light grey clouds today, but neither Patrick or I would look up even if it was sunny. We keep our eyes on the cracked sidewalk that leads out of the Abnegation faction and into the city, carefully stepping aside to make way for anyone who passes, offering soft smiles and nods.  
We don't talk, because there isn't much to say. Patrick and I aren't very close friends but we live near each other and we're the same age, so we might as well walk together.  
I resist the urge to bring a hand up and touch my freshly cut hair. My light brown locks were just starting to reach past my ears, but now it's all short again. Tidy, contained. I'm not supposed to want long hair anyway. Long hair on a boy is out of place, which would make me seem like an attention seeker. Wanting attention means being vain. Vanity leads to pride. Pride leads to selfishness.  
I focus instead on the sidewalk and on Patrick walking next to me. I gave up my spot on the bus to Mikey again, because his lungs are bad and he can't make the walk into the city. Patrick always walks with me so I don't have to walk alone, which is very selfless of him.  
In one month we will be given aptitude tests to see which faction we'll belong in for the rest of our lives. I'm positive that Patrick's results will be for Abnegation, and I'm sure that he'll pick to stay in our faction on the day of the Choosing Ceremony. He's one of the most selfless people I've ever met, and coming from a selfless faction, that's really saying something.  
I'm not sure what my results will be and I'm not sure what I'll pick.  
I'm not honest or outspoken enough for Candor, not calm and happy enough for Amity. I'm certainly not smart enough for Erudite or brave enough for Dauntless. But am I selfless enough for Abnegation?  
I catch myself thinking selfish things everyday, like wishing I could grow my hair out, or wishing my parents would praise me for my good grades. I wish someone else would give up their seat on the bus so that I wouldn't have to walk all the way to the city and back everyday.  
I wish I was allowed to listen to music, like in Amity or Dauntless. I wish I could draw attention to myself by singing or making art or wearing bright clothes.  
No, I'm certainly not selfless enough for Abnegation.  
So where will I end up?  
My musings are cut short when Patrick gasps. I look up in concern to make sure he's okay, but his eyes are trained on the horizon over the city.  
I follow his gaze and have to gasp as well. A giant plume of black smoke is rising above the buildings, billowing from what I'm sure is a terrible fire.  
Patrick and I both start running in the same step, racing to get to the scene, hoping to help anyone there. Other Abnegations are rushing from their houses and running with us. For a moment I'm afraid Mikey will run in to help too, since he's probably already in the city by now, but I cut that line of thinking short. I should be worried about whoever is in the fire, not my own selfish fears.  
We reach the city in almost no time at all. It's easy to forget my gasping lungs and burning legs when all the Abnegations are running together in stride. I become a part of the mass of grey and lose myself.  
I almost falter when the screams reach my ears but no one else does and Patrick, reliable, selfless Patrick, grabs onto my shirt sleeve to help keep me going.  
It's a disaster, like nothing I've ever seen before.  
One of the Dauntless trains has derailed, crashing and crumpling in on itself- on fire. Dauntless, young and old, have been flung from the open train cars and lie scattered across the cement along with jagged hunks of metal from the train.  
I spare one second to glace around, taking stock of everything. Practically every single person rushing in to help is wearing the plain grey clothes of Abnegation. To my left I see a Candor boy in black and white, holding a Dauntless girl's hand while one of my faction tries to stop the blood pouring from her stomach.  
Out of the right corner of my eye I see a group of brightly dressed Amity students hiding their faces and rushing away. The devastation is too much for them and I guess they can't reconcile what they see with the peacefulness in their hearts and minds. So they run away. I don't see anyone in the blues of Erudite. Probably because running into a flaming train wreck to save others isn't very smart.  
I see all this in the space of a breath, then Patrick is tugging on my sleeve again and we're both sprinting past the bodies being attended to and toward the actual train, where there are less of our faction trying to help.  
We pause outside the crumpled remains of a train car. The inside is on fire and the open doors are letting plenty of air in to feed the flames.  
"Is anyone in there?!" Patrick yells, half climbing up onto the jagged metal.  
In the next car over someone moves, trying to crawl away from the fire. Patrick turns immediately and runs to drag them into the open. As I start to shift my feet away from the fire to help, I hear coughing coming from inside the car next to me. I don't even think before I'm ducking into the crushed metal and searching for whoever coughed.  
"Where are you?" I yell. The roaring of the fire is louder than I could have imagined. I didn't know flames made sound when they got that big.  
There's more coughing, to the left. I look and spot a hand reaching toward me. The metal burns my hands when I shove pieces of wreckage away, but I grit my teeth and ignore the pain. I need to save this person. I need to.  
The hand becomes an arm which becomes a torso and head.  
It's a boy who looks about my age or maybe younger. His head is split and there's blood streaming down his face and neck.  
As soon as his upper body is clear he sits up and we both shove at the heavy steel door that's covering his legs. It shifts enough for me to grab him by the arms and pull him out.  
We tumble to the cement and he crumples in pain. The adrenaline in my veins is still pumping and I don't feel any pain yet. I grab his hands in mine and drag him away from the flaming car.  
I make it about twenty feet before I collapse. _I can't rest yet_ , I tell myself. _He still needs help_.  
"Are you okay? Where are you hurt?" I ask, crawling to my knees and leaning over him.  
"M'head," he groans.  
A pool of dark blood is forming on the cement, flowing from somewhere under his black hair. I don't have anything to stem the bleeding besides my grey shirt.  
If I pull my shirt off I'll only have an undershirt on, exposing my skin for anyone and everyone to see. I'm not allowed to do that, none of the Abnegation are. But if I don't, this boy might bleed to death.  
Expose myself or save a life?  
I tug the buttons on my shirt open and pull it off, crumpling it in my hands and pressing the fabric to his head. He winces in pain, but I keep pressing.  
"You're going to be fine," I tell him. "Help is coming, you're going to be fine."  
"Hurts," he mutters.  
"You're safe," I tell him.  
I look at his face for the first time, noticing his strong jaw and sculpted eyebrows. He has metal rings in his lip and nose and I spot a tattoo on his neck, the image partially obscured by blood.  
His eyes flicker open just as a group of older Abnegations reach us. I back away to let them tend to him, but his eyes stay on me until someone blocks his view.  
"Gerard!"  
I turn toward my name and see Patrick and Mikey running toward me. Mikey falls to his knobby knees and looks like he's about to throw his arms around me before he remembers himself.  
Even at twelve years old, he knows our faction's rules.  
"Are you okay?" Patrick asks in a measured voice. His eyes are on my face, politely ignoring my bare arms and tight undershirt.  
"I think..." I mutter. "My hands."  
They're burnt, now that I look at them, and suddenly the pain rushes in.  
"Come on," Patrick says, waving me to my feet. "We'll get you something to put on and patch you up."  
Somewhere in my head I wonder how I could receive medical attention when there's so many others in need, but then I see a space where the injured Abnegation are being treated by a group of older Amity women.  
Of course Amity would be the only faction to help Abnegation.  
A fresh shirt is provided to me, which I gratefully shrug on, and then someone is smearing something on my hands and bandaging them.  
I look around again. Other Dauntless have arrived to fight the fire and almost everyone involved in the crash has been moved away, either dead or being treated.  
My head hurts and the adrenaline in my system has faded to nothing. I'm suddenly exhausted.  
"Can I sleep?" I ask selfishly.  
"Of course," the Amity woman smiles.  
I shut my eyes for a little while.

 

We don't discuss the crash at the dinner table because Mikey has a delicate stomach. The food is passed around the table to the right and my father serves me, since my hands are still bandaged.  
"Thank you," I mutter.  
We eat quietly. I help clear the table as best as I can, but Mikey and my mom insist on washing the dishes. My father changes my bandages.  
Afterward we sit in the living room and talk about the crash, starting with my father.  
He tells us how it happened; the tracks were rusted through and since no crews had been able to inspect the lines for so long, no one noticed until it was too late.  
My mother tells us about the volunteers she's helping to organize to rebuild the tracks and clear the wreckage.  
Mikey tells us where he was when it happened and how an older Abnegation helped keep him on his feet when everyone started running and panicking.  
Then it's my turn to talk. I tell them that Patrick spotted the smoke and how we ran, along with numerous others, to get to the crash. I tell them about how Patrick helped pull someone from the train. I tell them about the boy I helped and how I gave my shirt up to stop his bleeding.  
My father tells me how selfless it was of me and my mother says I did exactly what I should have.  
Mikey tells me I'm brave, which earns him a disapproving look from our mother.

 

_Am I brave?_ I wonder that night while laying in bed.  
Was it selfless or brave to run into a fire?  
I selflessly risked my own life to save another's.  
I bravely risked my own life to save another's.  
Could it have been both? Can I _be_ both selfless and brave?  
I think about how few Abnegation there were actually pulling people from the train. Most of them stayed well back and tended to the Dauntless who were out of harm's way.  
Was it selfish of them to _not_ run into a flaming train wreck, or did they not realize there were still people inside? Were they not brave enough to run in, or were they selfless enough to help who they could instead of trying to help those in more dangerous positions. Would it have been selfish to run into a fire and risk getting hurt, pulling resources away from others?  
I stay up all night turning the questions over in my head.

Patrick and I don't say much over the next few days. He occasionally asks how my hands are and I tell them they're fine, thank you. They're healing fast due to the Erudite medicine I was allowed to use.  
Mikey hasn't said much since the crash either, other than to confess to me one night that he wished I hadn't rushed in and gotten hurt. I told him I had to help the black haired Dauntless boy and Mikey twisted his lips together. It was a look that clearly said _I'd rather him get hurt than you_. I didn't scold him for it, but I should have.  
Three weeks after the crash and all the wreckage has been cleared away. Erudite designed plans for a new railway and Abnegation volunteers have started building it.  
The injured Dauntless kids have already started coming back to school. I wonder how long they stayed in the hospital before insisting on leaving to show that they were brave enough to overcome pain and injury.  
Because the train to the school is no longer running, the Dauntless students have started arriving via truck, though they still insist on jumping from the back while it's moving.  
There's less of them than before though, and I wonder how many people died in the crash. My parents haven't mentioned it, and I don't want to ask. I can't stop thinking about the boy I saved and if he lived or not.

 

I wake up sweating on the morning of the aptitude test. Today I will learn what faction I belong in; where I'll live for the rest of my life.  
I remind myself that no matter what the results say, I can still choose to pick Abnegation, and that helps calm me down.  
My mom touches my hair briefly before I leave, and I can feel her love in that gesture. My dad reassures me that I'll do fine and Mikey wishes me luck before he climbs on the bus.  
Patrick is waiting patiently for me and we set off toward the city together. This time though, we don't keep our eyes on the sidewalk.  
The factionless always come out on aptitude day and I think they enjoy scaring us. Certainly the thought of being factionless is a horrifying one. Scarier than running into a burning train wreck.  
Patrick and I stop on a corner to give our lunches to a group of weary factionless men. They poke fun at us and tell us to choose wisely. I can't think of anything polite to say, so I don't say anything, even when one of them blows cigarette smoke in my face.  
We arrive at the tall school building in time to see the Dauntless kids jump off their trucks. A girl who looks about Mikey's age stumbles, scraping her palms on the cement. She jumps up and laughs it off, heading inside with the other black-clothed kids.  
I think about the time Mikey tripped on the cracked sidewalk and scrapped his knee and how he cried and cried as I carried him home.  
Classes are cut in half today, which is good because I give my pen away to a Candor boy in first period and then have nothing to write with for the rest of the morning. I wonder later if it was selfless or stupid.  
At lunch I sit with Patrick and the other Abnegation students. Everyone divides their food equally because Patrick and I gave ours away. Everyone gets less to eat because we gave our food away to men who were rude to us. Selfless or stupid?

It's almost comical the way our cafeteria is divided by color. Not skin color, of course, but clothing color.  
All the Abnegation sit together in calm rows, wearing grey.  
The Candors are grouped together loosely, bickering over one thing or another, each wearing black and white with not a single shade of grey between them.  
Amity girls are laughing, and Amity boys are playing a friendly game of cards. The bright yellows and reds hurt my eyes slightly, so I look away.  
The Erudite section is almost as calm as ours. Most of them are reading or studying or quizzing one another. The blues in their outfits are of all different shades.  
Lastly is the Dauntless section. They wear all black but with the occasional flare of color from someone's dyed hair. I expected them to be the most subdued, given how many of their classmates died recently, but they are the loudest and most disruptive of us all.  
They shout over one another, laughing and calling each other names. One of them climbs onto the back of his chair and tries to balance there, only managing it for a few seconds before he crashes to the floor. Then others are trying it and the noise of falling chairs and laughter takes over the whole room.  
The Candors and Erudites are glaring, the Amity kids are still playing their games. I look around my table and realize everyone is playing deaf.  
I pretend the racket doesn't bother me and return to the sandwich someone gave me.

When lunch ends, everyone except the sixteen year olds leave. There are plenty of Amity, Candor, and Erudite kids left. The Abnegation section is smaller. Our faction doesn't have many children because physical relations are considered so important that they don't happen often, and then only ever between married couples. The Dauntless group is the smallest of all, with only seven remaining sixteen year olds.  
With so few of them, I can finally spot the boy I saved. His head is still bandaged in white, but he's just as loud as the rest of them.  
He glances over and catches me looking. I freeze. He frowns then glances away.

We are called out of the cafeteria alphabetically and by faction. I am the last of my group.  
"Gerard Way."  
I rise as calmly as I can and walk toward the door I've never been through. It leads to a mirrored hallway and I pause, looking at my reflection.  
My heart races and I know someone will be out to scold me in a moment, but I can't help but look. I've never seen my whole reflection before.  
I'm thinner than I thought. Normally I only notice my white skin and pudge while changing or showering, but fully dressed and standing straight, I'm not as chubby as I assumed. My hair is growing back in, reaching to my ears now. The brown color is darker than I remember.  
My eyes are bright hazel. My nose is thin and pointed. My cheeks are round and my lips are pale and thin. I smile, and my teeth are small and pointed.  
"Gerard?"  
I startle, flinching away from my reflection. An Amity woman is smiling at me, waiting.  
"Sorry," I say, walking into the testing room.  
"It's quite alright, dear," she says. She's nice enough to not call me out on my vanity.  
A reclined chair is waiting for me, along with a table covered in wires and an angry looking machine.  
"It won't hurt a bit," she tells me. "Just lie back and I'll get you set up."  
I do what she says and watch, heart pounding, as she begins attaching wires to her own head and mine. I breath deeply, trying to calm down.  
"Drink this."  
I take a vial of clear liquid and bite my lips.  
I have no idea what this test is, we're not allowed to know beforehand. I have no idea why I have electrodes attached to my head, or why she's attached too. I have no idea what this liquid will do to me.  
"It's alright Gerard, just drink."  
I realize I'm wasting her time with my worrying. I shut my eyes and pour the liquid down my throat.

I open my eyes. I'm in the cafeteria, but everyone is gone. There are two tables set before me, each bearing a basket. In one is a hunk of cheese. In the other is a long knife.  
"Choose," commands a bodiless voice.  
_Why would I need either?_ I think. I suppose I could eat the cheese, but I'm not hungry. I could give the cheese to someone else who _is_ hungry, but couldn't they just get it themselves? If I took the cheese then gave it away, I wouldn't have anything left.  
I turn away from the basket with the cheese. There are too many questions and possibilities attached to it. I choose the knife, simply because I can't think of a single reason I'd need it, or why anyone else would need it either. I'll leave the cheese for someone else.  
Suddenly the tables are gone and I'm standing in the empty cafeteria, alone with a knife in my hand.  
It's then that I hear a door slide open behind me. I spin to face the noise and my eyes widen when I'm confronted with a growling dog.  
It's eyes are dark, lips pulled back and fangs dripping with saliva. It takes a step forward and it's sharp nails clack against the tile floor.  
_Oh God,_ I realize, _it's going to attack me_.  
For a moment I'm paralyzed as the dog stalks closer, then suddenly I think of Mikey.  
My parents had volunteered to pick up trash in the city, and Mikey and I had gone along to help. I was eight and Mikey was four. I didn't know at the time that some people kept pets, since no one in Abnegation did. A Candor man's dog had gotten loose from it's leash and attacked Mikey, clamping it's jaws around Mikey's tiny leg and not letting go until a passing Dauntless woman snapped it's neck.  
Mikey still has the scars on his leg and a terrible fear of dogs.  
The snarling dog in front of me gets closer and suddenly I'm clenching my knife so hard my knuckles turn white. I won't let this beast get to Mikey, not while I can still protect him.  
The dog lunges and I swing the knife up, catching the animal in the chest. It collapses on top of me and drags me down with it. It's still snarling, still trying to bite. I stab it in the neck and it goes still.

I open my eyes and I'm on a bus. _Why am I on a bus? Where's Mikey?_  
I decide he must have stayed home with a cough, and that's why I get to ride the bus. I start to sit down but then I notice a man right next to me.  
He's holding a newspaper and the headline proclaims "Brutal Murderer Finally Apprehended!"  
Murderer? There haven't been any murders in years. The picture accompanying the headline is of a young man with a beard. I squint. He seems almost familiar to me.  
"Do you know this guy?" asks the man with the newspaper.  
"Uh... no. Sorry." I say quietly.  
He stands suddenly and gets in my face. His skin is scarred and I try to step back.  
"You're lying!" he shouts.  
"No, I'm not!" I say frantically.  
"If you know him, you could save me!"  
_But he's been apprehended_ I think. I open my mouth to say so, but when he starts to shout at me again I panic and swing my hand up, hitting him in the face.

I open my eyes and I realize I'm panting, gasping for air.  
"It's alright, calm down, Gerard. The test is over."  
I glance around and realize I'm back in the testing room. The Amity woman is gently pulling electrodes away from my skin.  
"W-what?" I gasp.  
"The test is over," she tells me. "I have to say, that was quite surprising to watch."  
"What do you-?" Before I get the question out, the machine next to me beeps and spits out a small piece of paper.  
She takes it and hands it to me.  
"Your results."  
I take a deep breath and look down at the paper. The word stares back at me in stark black letters.  
**Dauntless.**

 

Neither Patrick nor I say anything on the walk home. The factionless have gone back to their crumbling homes, so we're not bothered by anyone.  
Patrick keeps flexing his fingers and I can't imagine why. If anyone is guaranteed to have gotten Abnegation as a result, it's him. I wonder what would have happened if I had picked the cheese instead of the knife. I want to ask Patrick what happened in his simulation, but we're not allowed to talk about it.  
We part ways when we get to our neighborhood with muttered "sleep well"s and "see you tomorrow"s.  
I enter my house and immediately go to my room. I should take chicken out to thaw for dinner, or make Mikey an afterschool snack, but instead I selfishly climb into bed and pull my covers over my head.  
_Dauntless_. The word is burned into my eyes and I can hear it resonating with every beat of my heart. _Dauntless_.  
How could I possibly be Dauntless? I'm not brave, I'm not a risk taker. I don't secretly yearn to compete with others over who can do the most reckless and dangerous thing.  
I scramble out from under my covers and reach for my Faction History textbook. I flip through the pages until I find the faction manifestos.  
**Dauntless**  
**We believe that cowardice is to blame for the world's injustices.**  
**We believe in freedom from fear, in denying fear the power to influence our decisions.**  
**We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.**  
**We believe in acknowledging fear and the extent to which it rules us.**  
**We believe in facing that fear no matter the cost to our comfort, our happiness, or even our sanity.**  
I skip to the end.  
**We do not believe that any other virtue is more important than bravery.**  
I lay back and think.  
Was it bravery or selflessness that made me run into that burning train wreck? Was it brave or selfless to kill a simulated dog to protect my brother?  
I run through dozens of things I've done in my life, debating whether or not bravery or selflessness drove me. I am nowhere near done thinking by the time Mikey gets home.  
He rushes up to my room and I almost open my mouth to scold him. We're not supposed to rush.  
"How did it go?" Mikey asks.  
"You're not supposed to ask, Mikey."  
"But I'm your brother!"  
What a selfish thing to say. Suddenly I'm sure that when the time comes, Mikey's results won't read **Abnegation.**  
I sit up and sigh. "It went fine. Come on, let's go downstairs and start dinner."  
As we work together in the kitchen, I continue to think about my results.  
If I choose Dauntless, I'll probably never see my little brother again. In four years when he takes the aptitude test, he won't get Dauntless as a result. He's too weak, too sickly. He cries too much. Maybe he'll get Amity, and he can go live on a farm and sing and play games all day. I want that for him.  
But even then I won't get to see him. If I choose Dauntless tomorrow at the ceremony, I'll leave immediately for their compound and I'll never come back to this house again.  
Maybe mom or dad will bring him to come see me on Visiting Day, but that's only for a few hours and then he'll be gone again.  
I can't leave my brother behind. Am I selfless enough to stay in Abnegation for him? But when he turns sixteen and gets to choose, he might leave, and then I'll be stuck in Abnegation for the rest of my life and we'll be separated anyway.  
But what if I choose Dauntless and in four years he follows after me, no matter what his results say? Am I selfish enough to put that choice before him?  
"Gerard, you're killing the potatoes."  
I blink and suddenly realize I've been mashing potatoes for way too long.  
"I'm sorry, Mikey."  
"Are you okay?" he asks.  
I smile, briefly resting my hand on his head.  
"I'm fine."

 

I feel sick the next morning.  
We eat breakfast quietly. Normally my parents would discuss things, but today they're giving me the gift of silence so I can ponder my results.  
The same thing is probably happening in every other Abnegation house that contains a sixteen year old.  
We take the bus into the city. My parents give up their seats but I don't. No one comments on my selfishness.  
We're some of the last to arrive, so we get to ride the elevator to the top of the Hub. If there wasn't enough room in the elevator, the Abnegations would have taken the stairs, and I can barely breathe as it is.  
The Choosing Ceremony takes place on a floor all it's own. There are chairs set up in circles for everyone to sit, according to their faction. In the center of the circle are five giant metal bowls. I try not to look at them as everyone takes their seats, leaving the sixteen year olds to stand in rows.  
It's Candor's year to host the Ceremony, so one of their leaders gets up and reads out the traditional opening. I barely hear it over the sound of my heart beating.  
"...Without them, we would not survive."  
I blink back into awareness as the Candor man in black and white starts reading down the list of names. I wish Mikey was next to me so I could squeeze his tiny hand. Instead, Patrick is on my left and no one is on my right. I'm the last in the line of Abnegations.  
The first sixteen year old goes up. The Candor leader hands her a small knife and she slides it along her palm, letting blood flow. She's from Erudite, and she sticks with her faction, letting her blood spill into the bowl filled with water.  
There's applause as she moves to stand behind the Erudite section. The next name is called.  
It goes on and on. Grey stones are Abnegation, water is Erudite, earth is Amity, glass is Candor, lit coals are Dauntless.  
The first one to switch factions is the Candor boy I saw at the train crash. He was holding a girl's hand, trying to help her. He lets his blood fall in Abnegation's bowl.  
The Candors are muttering but the Abnegations just smile and incline their heads in welcome as the boy stands behind them.  
More people start switching. A girl from Dauntless switches to Amity. A boy from Erudite switches to Dauntless.  
When Patrick walks into the circle and cuts his hand, I don't even bother thinking about his choice. He'll obviously pick Abnegation.  
Except he picks Dauntless.  
People are muttering in confusion. Patrick's parents are staring at their knees, not even looking toward the son that betrayed them.  
Am I brave enough to do that?  
Oh God, I can't breathe.  
I watch Patrick join the Dauntless initiates. A boy with a bandage around his head catches my eye. It's the boy I saved from the train. His eyes are brown and I can't look away until he does.  
My name breaks through the thumping pulse in my ears. I realize I've just been called.  
My mouth is full of spit, so I swallow. My legs don't shake as I walk forward and I clench my hands into fists so they don't shake either.  
I keep my eyes on the knife in the Candor leader's hand and do my very best to pretend that Mikey isn't watching.  
When I slice my hand, it stings and I have to bite back a gasp. It feels like ice has gotten in under my flesh and is spreading out toward my fingers and up my arm.  
I take a deep breath, let the blood pool in my palm.  
**Dauntless** the paper said.  
I am brave. I am fearless. This shouldn't be scarier than running into a burning train.  
I let my blood fall onto the sizzling coals.

I find myself standing in line with the other Dauntless initiates and I don't remember walking over to them. I glance over at Patrick and his wide eyes are watching me.  
Another pair of eyes is on me too, chocolate brown and angry.  
The boy I saved from the train does not seem thrilled with my choice.  
The Ceremony ends with a short Dauntless boy picking Dauntless, then chairs are scraping and people are moving. Before anyone else can leave the room, the Dauntless start running for the exit.  
I move with them, not knowing what else to do. I hear someone cry out my name and it's Mikey, struggling against my father's tight hold, trying to run after me. I swerve to the side, get to the edge of the group, and reach out to touch Mikey's hair one last time. Then he's gone.  
The Dauntless are sprinting, throwing themselves down the concrete staircases. I find Patrick in the mayhem and we run together. We are the only grey in a sea of black and colors.  
The moment we get outside, the truck- our ride- starts to roll away. I'm briefly grateful that we don't have to jump onto a moving train, then realize how selfish and awful that thought is.  
I don't think about the train crash. I don't think about Mikey. I don't think about where we're going. I simply run with the others and leap, jumping into the bed of the truck before turning around to help others. Patrick grabs my hand and I pull him up.  
We're all in and the truck picks up speed. I look around.  
The Dauntless-born initiates are cheering and clapping each other on the backs. An Erudite boy is watching them with a strange look. Next to him is a Candor boy who's staring over the edge of the truck bed, watching the road speed away as we drive. Two Amity transfers are clinging to each other, a boy and girl.  
Patrick grabs my sleeve.  
"Really?" he wonders.  
"Yeah, I guess so," I answer.  
"Wow," he says  
"Yeah," I nod.  
After that the road deteriorates to the point where we're all bouncing around, trying to stay in the truck bed, clamping our teeth shut so we don't bite our tongues.  
I notice for the first time that there's a truck full of Dauntless members in front of us, leading the way. I notice this just as they all climb to their feet and start jumping from the speeding truck.  
We're on an overpass, stories and stories up. High enough that a fall would kill with one hundred percent accuracy. I try to swallow my heart back down to my chest.  
The Dauntless-born initiates are jumping to their feet, pushing their way to the open end of the truck bed. The rest of us hurry to copy them.  
They jump and land atop a building, rolling across the flat roof.  
"Come on!" I yell. I'm the first transfer to jump from the truck, the others following behind quickly.  
I have to throw my hands out so I don't land on my face, but my elbows buckle and I end up scraping my temple across the gravel roof anyway. Turning to check on Patrick I realize that he's spitting blood.  
I frown and he groans out "toof".  
Oh. He hit his face and lost a tooth.  
"Let's get a move on!" someone shouts. The Dauntless members are waiting by the edge of the roof with the Dauntless-born initiates.  
The transfers scurry to their feet and jog over. Every one of us is sporting a scrape or bruise.  
One of the Dauntless women turns to face us. Her hair is green and tied up in braids. I try to count the metal rings in her lips but she starts talking.  
"Alright, my name is Jenna!" she yells. "I'm one of the leaders of the faction you want so badly to be in!"  
The other members chuckle. Jenna steps up to the edge of the building and balances on her toes.  
"You got off easy with the trucks this year," she tells us. "They're slower and easier than the trains. You know what that means? That means I already consider you weak."  
The Candor boy speaks up.  
"That's not fair! We didn't pick-"  
"Shut your mouth!"  
I can practically hear his teeth clack together from how fast he shuts up.  
"We are currently standing above the entrance to our compound," Jenna states.  
A few of the transfer kids look at the roof below their feet.  
"It's down there," she adds, pointing over her shoulder.  
"How do we-?" starts the Erudite boy.  
"You jump."  
The members are watching our reactions like hawks. I grit my teeth and push my jaw forward. I am brave. I am fearless.  
"Initiates get the honor of going first," Jenna says, stepping away from the ledge with a smirk.  
I wonder if it's a test, if the first person that moves to jump will actually be stopped, congratulated, and then they'll reveal a door or something that's the real entrance.  
I don't even have the time to think about being the first person before the boy with the bandages on his head laughs and leaps forward. He jumps off the edge, spinning as he does to turn around and make a face at us before he arches toward the dark ground.  
A few people gasp. I might have been one of them. A long moment passes and then a shout echoes up from the bottom.  
"First jumper- Frank!"  
I hear cheering and applause, people laughing and catcalling.  
Jenna grins at the rest of us. "Who's next?"  
The other Dauntless-born move forward but I don't give them the chance. I push away from Patrick and jump.  
For a split second I think _am I insane?!_ Then I start falling. The wind in my ears covers the sound of my pumping heart and for a moment I feel like I'm flying.  
It feels incredible.  
I land hard against a net and I am momentarily swallowed up by it, then hands are reaching out to grab me and pull me onto the floor. I don't stumble when I land on my feet and, even though I was taught my whole life not to, I am proud.  
"A fucking Stiff, huh? That's hilarious," someone says.  
Dauntless is the _only_ faction that curses.  
I wince at the language and turn to see a heavily tattooed, heavily pierced man with spiky hair. He's grinning at me. There are dozens of members behind him, cheering for me.  
Before I can formulate a response, the next initiate has jumped. It's one of the Dauntless-born. Everyone reaches in to help him out of the net and I join in, grabbing his shirt.  
He's thin and blond, taller than me. When he hits the ground he's immediately engulfed in a hug from Frank; the first jumper. The boy I saved.  
"Quinny!" he shouts, clinging to the blond boy "Fucking third? I'm ashamed to know you!" he laughs.  
"A Stiff got in my way," he answers, and they both laugh. It's like I'm not even here.  
The next jumper is the Candor boy. When we pull him from the net his skin looks greenish. Patrick is one of the last to jump and he's shaking visibly when he gets to his feet.  
I'm trying to remember who else is left when a girl screams on her way down. I look up in time to see her land on the net upside down. The _snap_ echoes in my head and I sway on my feet.  
Members rush in to pull her body from the net and carry her away. Her neck is clearly broken, blood streaming from her ears and nose and mouth.  
_Even our safety net can kill us,_ I think.  
The Dauntless are acting like it didn't even happen. Only the transfers are frozen in shock.  
A thin boy hits the net. He's from Amity, like the girl before him. When he gets out of the net he looks around.  
"Where's Anna?" His voice is so gentle and mousey, it makes me want to cry.  
One of the members pulls him aside and tells him. He begins to weep.  
All that's left now are the Dauntless members on the roof. They start jumping but we don't stay to watch. The man who called me a Stiff when I landed is leading us away, down a dark hallway.  
"Welcome to the Dauntless Compound," he tells us over his shoulder. "Get used to the dark; you'll love it someday."  
Patrick is trying to console the Amity boy as we walk, but I'm focusing on our leader and the Dauntless-born boys.  
"My name is Brian," says the man. "I'm going to be over-seeing your training for the next few weeks." He stops at a dark intersection of hallways and frowns at us. "Normally, we would train transfers and Dauntless-borns separately, but because our number is so low this year-" his eyes sweep over the ten of us, "-it's been decided that you'll be trained as one group."  
The five Dauntless-born boys chuckle. From the way they're standing, I assume they're all close friends.  
"Normally," Brian continues, "You would be ranked after each section of training and only the top ten initiates would be accepted, while the others would be kicked out." He gives us a second to let that sink in. "But since there are only ten of you and we need the members, that rule has also been overlooked. Let me warn you right now; because of these decisions and because you got to ride the truck in instead of the train, the whole faction is already viewing you as the weakest bunch of initiates we've ever had. You better work your asses off to prove that you belong here because if you think you're getting a free ride, you will be factionless so fast your fucking head will spin."  
Someone chokes back a sob, but I don't look to see who it is.  
"I expect top scores from all of you or you'll be working the fence for the rest of your lives."  
The fence around the city, the one that Dauntless is charged with protecting. I thought it was a normal job for them, but the way Brian phrased it, it seems like only the weakest patrol there.  
He starts walking again and I quickly fall into step behind him.  
"Down this hall is the Pit. Like the dark, you'll learn to love it."  
The hall opens up into a giant carvern. The walls are dotted with carved out spaces for food, clothes and other things. I see people lounging a hundred feet up with no barriers separating them from the open space. Narrow paths and stairs lead from each place to the next.  
At the very top, hundreds of feet up, is a glass ceiling that lets in a few rays of sunlight. Everywhere else is lit by blue lanterns.  
The Pit is full of Dauntless, all clothed in black, running to and fro, shouting, laughing.  
Brian calls our attention back.  
"Over here is the Chasm." He leads us to a cliff overlooking a fierce river only a few dozen feet below. The water is churning and white, deadly. This is the only place that has a railing along the edge.  
"The Chasm reminds us that there is a difference between bravery and idiocy!" Brian shouts over the roar of water. "A daredevil jump from here will kill you, guaranteed. It's happened before and it'll happen again. You've been warned."  
"These people are insane," someone whispers in my ear. It's the Candor boy. I pretend I didn't hear him.  
Brian leads us away from the Chasm and up one of the narrow rock ledges. He turns and we follow him into the wall of the Pit, down another hallway. He opens the door to a rectangular room with beds dug into the walls.  
"This is where you sleep," he tells us. "Your training begins tomorrow morning at 8am. You are not to leave the compound unless accompanied by a Dauntless member. You've got the rest of the day off, so eat, rest. Transfers, change your clothes." He glares at the Dauntless-born boys. "Show the transfers where the cafeteria is."  
Then he turns around and leaves.  
The Amity boy immediately collapses into a bed and starts sobbing. Patrick rushes to comfort him and I realize I should be doing that too... except I don't want to.  
"Shh, it's okay," Patrick mutters, touching the boy's hair.  
"She only transferred here because I did!" he cries.  
It's like a punch in the stomach, the reminder that someday, Mikey might decide to follow me to Dauntless. That he might jump to his death on the first day.  
"It was a good death," one of the Dauntless boys says. He has long black hair that's tangled and knotted. "She was brave and now she's off on an adventure none of us could even imagine."  
"Aw, you're so poetic, Bert," chuckles Frank.  
"You're a jerk," snaps the Candor boy.  
I decide to end the fight before it starts. "Hey, where can we change?"  
The Dauntless boy, Bert, grins at me. "There should be bathrooms over there."  
I grab a pair of black clothes off one of the beds and walk away. The boys from Candor and Erudite follow me.  
"What's your name?" Candor asks.  
"Gerard," I answer.  
"I'm Brendon," he says.  
We glance at the Erudite. "Ray," he offers up.  
"Nice to meet you guys," I say before ducking into a stall. I strip out of my Abnegation clothes swiftly. I don't want to think about Mikey, or home, or being selfless. I don't want to be a Stiff anymore.  
When we return to the dormitory, the Dauntless boys introduce themselves at Brendon's prompting.  
Frank, our first jumper. The boy I pulled from a burning train wreck. He's reclining on his bed like he doesn't have a care in the world, idly scratching at the bandage around his head.  
Bert, the boy with the long, knotted hair. Quinn, the tall blond boy who jumped after me. Jeph, a muscular boy with designs shaved into his hair. Pete, a grinning, compact boy with bright white teeth.  
Patrick introduces himself, then the hiccupping Amity boy says his name is Ryan. Ray and I add our names and I catch Frank glaring at me from across the dark room.  
I suddenly feel like covering the bare skin on my arms, but I resist the urge. The other boys are all wearing t-shirts, I can handle wearing one too.  
Patrick and Ryan go to change, then Pete announces that he's off to the cafeteria. The other Dauntless boys follow him and I fall into step with them.  
Frank shoves me and growls "Watch it, Stiff."  
I wonder what would happen if I shoved him back, but Patrick shoots me a look and I let it go.  
I follow the five dauntless boys, the rest of the transfers following along behind me, down a long, dark hallway. Brian was right, I'm already starting to find comfort in the embrace of darkness.  
We turn a corner and the rumble of hundreds of voices reach us. We enter a large room with dozens of tables, most of them are filled. As soon as we're spotted everyone is standing up and cheering, clapping, stomping their feet- congratulating us.  
The Dauntless-born boys swagger in, soaking up the attention while the rest of us find a table for ourselves.  
I grab the food laid out in front of us, though I have no idea what it is, and prepare it the way Ray does. Patrick asks about the dishes and Brendon starts explaining, but then a hush falls over the whole room.  
I look around to see why and notice a Dauntless has just entered the cafeteria. He is a giant of a man, hulking and strong with blond hair and piercings all over his face.  
"One of the leaders; Bryar," I hear the Candor boy, Brendon, mutter.  
The man's eyes sweep over the table of Dauntless-born boys who stayed with their faction, then his gaze lands on us. He starts walking toward us.  
The chatter is beginning to pick up again when he reaches our table.  
"So, you're our transfers," he says in a deep voice. "I've never seen such a spread before."  
None of us say anything.  
His eyes land on Ryan. "I was informed about your friend. I'm sorry for your loss."  
Ryan blinks and his tears start welling up again.  
"Don't cry," the blond man orders. "Honor her now by being brave and getting through training with top scores."  
Ryan shuts his eyes for a moment to stop the tears and when he opens them again he looks harder, more resolved. He nods.  
"Good," he says. "I expect great things from all of you, don't let me down."  
Then he turns and leaves the cafeteria, ignoring the Dauntless-born boys all together.  
"That's one of their leaders?" Patrick asks.  
"He's intimidating," Ray says.  
"He's _huge_ ," Brendon corrects.  
"He's right," I say. "We need to get the best scores possible if we're ever going to be taken seriously here."  
"Does anyone know what their initiation consists of?" Ryan murmurs.  
"It's three stages," says Brian, sinking down at our table without any of us noticing him sneak up. "The first is physical, the second is emotional, the third is mental. Each stage is graded more heavily than the last."  
The others look too nervous by Brian's presence to speak, so I do.  
"What are we doing tomorrow?"  
He stares at me, emotionless expect for the mischief I can see dancing in his eyes.  
"I guess you'll find out tomorrow."

That night the ten of us try to find sleep in our new beds. The Dauntless boys have taken over one half of the room, leaving the other half to the transfers.  
I try to stop thinking of myself that way. I'm not a transfer, I'm Dauntless now.  
All around me I hear breathing; the slow steady breathing of Frank and his friends- already sleeping, the controlled breathing of a few transfers- trying to calm down enough for sleep, and the hitched inhales of Ryan- crying silently.  
I have a feeling Ryan won't make it to the end of training. I have no doubt that the Dauntless-born will all pass, and I'm fairly confident that Brendon and Ray have what it takes. I'm slightly worried about Patrick because he's still acting like Abnegation and it's going to get him in trouble soon.  
I know I will make it. I will get high scores. I will be a Dauntless member.  
I am brave, I am fearless, I am Dauntless.  
I repeat those words over and over in my head until I fall asleep.

 

I'm shaken awake. My hands fly up to knock away whoever is touching me, but they back up immediately.  
"Hey, chill out," says Bert. "Just waking you up for breakfast."  
I rub my eyes and try to slow my heart beat. From across the room I hear Ray start talking.  
"The Abnegation don't like physical contact," he states. "That's why he freaked out."  
"That's not true," I tell him.  
"Abnegations believe physical contact is private and sacred," Patrick answers for me. "They don't just go around casually touching everyone they see."  
The blond boy, Quinn, smirks. "I notice you said _they_ and not _we_."  
I stick my chin out and answer before Patrick can.  
"We're not Abnegation anymore. We're Dauntless initiates."  
Frank snorts.  
"Sure you are," Quinn laughs.  
The five of them leave the room, Bert tipping me an exaggerated wink as they exit.  
"Creeps," Brendon mutters.  
"They don't know any better," Ryan chides.  
I roll out of bed and start dressing. I still feel uncomfortable with so little clothing on, even if it's just my arms that are bare, but I know I need to get over it soon.  
Patrick takes his clothes into the bathroom to change and I almost tell him to stop and change with the others, but I don't.  
If he wants to hold on to Abnegation beliefs, that's fine by me. I'm a Dauntless now, and none of the other boys were self-conscious.  
Ray joins me when I leave the dormitory.  
"The Abnegation to Dauntless transfer rate is incredibly low," he says.  
"Oh?" I ask, wondering why he only seems to speak in facts.  
"Yes, roughly 2% of Abnegation transfer to Dauntless in a ten year span. That's almost nothing."  
"So?"  
"So, you and Patrick must be very brave."  
I furrow my brow at the dark hallway floor.  
"What about the Dauntless to Abnegation stats?"  
"Even lower."  
"And I thought _Erudite_ and Abnegation didn't get along," I grin.  
He smiles back.  
"What's it like anyway?" I ask when we reach the cafeteria. It's quieter this morning than it was last night. We sit together at an empty table.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Did you just study all day?"  
"I enjoy learning," he tells me, "but it was always just too quiet for me. I used to volunteer just to get away. My parents were afraid I was going to pick Abnegation yesterday."  
I have to take another deep breath. I can't believe that the Choosing Ceremony was only _yesterday_. It feels like a million years ago.  
"Where did you volunteer?" I ask, picking at the weird half circle of what looks like eggs and vegetables on my plate.  
"Everywhere. I wanted to learn more about the other factions and volunteering seemed like the easiest way."  
"Yeah, you never would have been Abnegation," I chuckle.  
He raises an eyebrow, so I clarify.  
"You volunteered for selfish reasons."  
"Oh, huh," he says. "I never thought of it like that."  
I laugh and a moment later he joins in.  
Out of nowhere, one of the Dauntless-born boys drops down to our table. "What's funny?"  
"Not much," I tell him, the laughter dying on my lips. I can't remember his name, but he's as small as Frank with black hair hanging into his eyes. He already has tattoos spiraling up his tan arms.  
"Oh come on, share the joke," he insists.  
"It really wasn't that funny," Ray says. "Why aren't you sitting with your friends?"  
"We're all friends now, aren't we?"  
I quirk an eyebrow. "No, not really."  
"Hmm, I always found Stiffs and Erudites to be more stand-offish than the other factions."  
"What do you want, Pete?" Ray asks.  
Oh right, Pete. He picked Dauntless right after I did at the Ceremony.  
Pete grins. "What's that saying? Know thy enemy?"  
"We may not be friends but we certainly aren't enemies," Ray tells him.  
"Do you know why we're graded and ranked during initiation?" Pete asks.  
Neither of us answer.  
"It's because there's only a few desirable jobs in Dauntless, and the higher your score, the better your job opportunities."  
I lean forward into the table. "And, what? You're angling for faction leader?"  
He winks at me. "Isn't everyone?"  
He stands up without another word and struts back to his friends. I notice Frank watching me again, but as soon as our eyes connect he turns away.  
Brendon, Patrick, and Ryan show up then, settling around the table with us and pulling food toward them. Ray doesn't mention what Pete said, so I don't either.  
"So," Brendon announces, "our training starts at eight and we have a break for lunch then we get off at six. After that we're free to do whatever we want."  
Patrick and I glance at each other and I know he's thinking the same thing I am. We've never had time for ourselves and no opportunity to indulge in selfish desires before.  
"What's there to do around here?" Ryan asks. His eyes are puffy and red. I wonder if he got any sleep or if he stayed up all night crying.  
"Well, I asked someone yesterday and they said everyone in Dauntless gets points they can use on things, like clothes or haircuts or whatever. I want to get a tattoo."  
A shiver runs through me and I know the others saw it. They don't mention it.  
"Why?" Ryan asks.  
"We don't look the part," Brendon says. "Everyone here is inked and dyed and pierced. We stand out by _not_ standing out, you know?"  
I realize he's right. Five sets of bare arms stand out against our black clothes, whereas the members' skin is so inked they almost blend in.  
Ray starts nodding. "Yeah, you're right. After training today we should all go get inked."  
Everyone else is agreeing. I panic in the safety of my head, wondering how I'll get out of this. Maybe I can just dye my hair a crazy color and no one will question why I didn't get a tattoo.  
I leave myself out of their conversations as breakfast moves along. The cafeteria begins to get crowded by the time we need to leave.  
"Let's go," Patrick says.  
"What's that phrase?" Brendon wonders as we walk the dark hallways. "Early to bed...."  
"Early to bed, early to rise," Ray says. "But you're thinking of _the early bird gets the worm_."  
"Oh, yeah yeah," Brendon grins, clapping his hands together. "Let's go get some worms."  
His enthusiasm rushes into the rest of us and we all grin. Someone starts running and the rest of us join in, sprinting all the way to the training room.  
We clutch our sides when we get there, laughing and panting.  
"It feels good to run!" Ray chuckles.  
"I know!" Patrick gasps.  
"It's like flying," I add.  
"You guys are weird," Brendon laughs. "Haven't you ever run before?"  
"Not allowed to," Patrick says.  
"Me neither," Ray says. "Running is kind of frowned upon in libraries."  
Suddenly we're all laughing again and I feel giddy. I can do this, I can be Dauntless.  
After we calm down a bit, Ryan speaks up.  
"So, what are we training today?"  
"Weapons," answers a booming voice.  
We all spin around to see Brian entering through a dark doorway across the room.  
"Guns and knives, specifically," he adds.  
A door bursts open and the Dauntless-born boys saunter in, laughing and talking to one another.  
"You're late!" Brian shouts.  
They all freeze and stare at him.  
"It's five of," Frank tells him, sounding defiant.  
"And the transfers got here ten minutes ago, which means you should have been here eleven minutes ago."  
Frank's face darkens and he shoots me a murderous glare. I don't know why he thinks it's my fault, but if he wants to play that game, we'll play that game. I glare back at him.  
"Fall in," Brian says.  
I assume that means _stand in a line_ , because that's what the five of them immediately do. The rest of us hurry to join them.  
We line up in front of a black table that holds ten identical guns. At the far end of the room, near where Brian entered, I can make out ten targets stuck to the wall.  
"For the next four hours you will learn everything there is to know about handguns," Brian tells us, walking up and down our line. "How to take them apart, put them together, clean them, load them, handle them, aim them, fire them. You will all hit the center of your target before lunch."  
It isn't an ultimatum or a threat, just a statement of fact. We _will_ hit the center of the target.  
Brian picks up a gun and begins naming parts, then he takes it apart, puts it back together and tells us to do the same.  
I pick up the gun in front of me and try to copy exactly what Brian showed us. He walks up and down our line while we work, occasionally stopping.  
"What is this called?" he demands of Ryan.  
"The safety," Ryan answers.  
Brian doesn't praise him for answering correctly, he simply moves on.  
"What is this?" he asks me, pointing at my gun.  
"The hammer."  
He nods, and moves on.  
Ray learns to take apart and put together his gun before the rest of the transfers. Pete and the others look like they could do it in their sleep, but Brian keeps them at it until the rest of us learn. Patrick is the last to perfect the procedure, just after Ryan.  
Brian pulls a box of bullets from his back pocket and sets them on the table. He takes Jeph's gun and shows us how to load and cock the guns. Then we practice.  
The clicking and rustling along the line stops when Brian snatches Ryan's gun away from him.  
"This is a loaded gun you fucking idiot, why are you pointing it at Ray?!"  
Ryan stammers out an apology. I drop my eyes to my gun and make sure it's pointed at the floor and not the line of my fellow initiates.  
We learn how to stand, how to hold the gun, how to aim. Ryan's hands are shaking so bad I can see his gun quivering from where I'm standing.  
"You will fire at your target and your target _only_ ," Brian tells us. "When you run out of bullets, put your gun on the table." He sticks pieces of foam in his ears and tells us to start.  
I hold my gun the way I was told to, sighting down the barrel and lining up the ridges. The _crack!_ of my gun firing nearly stops my heart and I realize why Brian stuffed his ears.  
My ears are ringing when we all finally stop shooting. Ray is the last to put his gun down.  
Brian pulls the foam from his ears then motions to us. We follow him down to the targets and each stand in front of ours.  
I examine my target.  
Four of my bullets hit the white edges of the square, three of them missed completely. The rest are inside the red circle. One of them is a thumb's width away from the black dot in the very center.  
Brian tells the Dauntless-born boys that they did good but he expects better. Frank looks pissed. Almost all of Ryan's bullets missed, same with Patrick's. Brendon did better but didn't hit near the center. Brian tells Ray that he has good grouping, but even he didn't hit the center.  
When Brian stops in front of my target, he nods.  
"The longer you shot, the closer you got," he tells me. "I expect a bull's-eye in the next round."  
I realize that was as close to praise as I could get from Brian, and I nod.  
Brian sets up fresh targets then we go back to the table and reload our guns.  
After nine more rounds of shooting, I've gotten five bull's-eyes. Frank got ten, and his friends got anywhere from seven to nine. Ray and Brendon got two each, Patrick and Ryan got one apiece.  
We spend the rest of the morning cleaning our guns, then Brian releases us for lunch.  
I rub my hands as we walk; they ache like someone stomped on them.  
"That was amazing, Gerard," Ryan says.  
"Thank you," I answer, not really knowing how to respond.  
"Five out of ten," he says in awe.  
"It got harder near the end," I say.  
"I hear ya," Brendon agrees. "My hands are killing me. I hope it's not soup for lunch, I couldn't hold a spoon right now."  
And just like that, Brendon has us all chuckling again. I realize he's helping us; taking our minds off the bad and focusing on the good. I wonder if that's his personal form of bravery.  
I spend the entire lunch period- which is sandwiches, thankfully- trying to determine each of our personal forms of bravery.  
Ryan is brave by continuing on after the death of his friend. Patrick was brave to pick Dauntless because he wanted to instead of picking Abnegation to make his parents happy. I can't put a finger on Ray's bravery yet, I don't know enough about him.  
What's my personal form of bravery? Maybe by the end of initiation I'll know.

Frank is the first person in the training room after lunch, but Brian either doesn't notice, doesn't care, or pretends he doesn't see.  
Our table is covered in knives now, and our targets are closer. We spend four hours learning to throw blades.  
By six o'clock my arms feel ready to fall off. Brian wasn't as strict about the knives as he was about the guns, which is good because none of the transfers even got close to the bull's-eye. At least I got my knives to stick, which is more than can be said about Brendon and Ryan.  
I turn for the dormitories but Brendon catches my wrist.  
"Tattoos, remember?"  
"Oh, uh... right."  
I follow them toward the Pit then up, up, up to a tattoo parlor. The room is brightly lit, unlike the rest of the compound, and the walls are covered in art. I lose myself for a while, strolling along the edges of the room, admiring the pictures while the other boys chat with the tattoo artists.  
"Gerard!" Brendon calls. "How about a crosshair, to celebrate your five bull's-eyes?"  
"That doesn't sound like the smartest tattoo to have around here," Ray says. "What with all the, you know, guns and stuff."  
They all chuckle, even the gruff looking tattoo artists.  
"I'm thinking about just dying my hair for now," I say. "I'll save the tattoos for after initiation."  
Brendon pouts but Patrick distracts him with a page of music based tattoos. I silently thank Patrick for the save.  
I slip out of the room and down a short hallway, finding the salon exactly where one of the tattoo artists said I would.  
"What can I do ya for?" asks a woman the moment I poke my head inside.  
She's tall and strong looking. Her black mini skirt shows off two long, muscular legs. Her black hair is pulled into pig-tails. Her lips are bright, bright red.  
"I wanted to dye my hair," I tell her.  
"You came to the right place," she grins. "I'm Lyn-Z. Have a seat, sweetie."  
There are padded chairs lined up in front of mirrors and sinks. I sit in one and stare at my face.  
It's not the same face that I saw yesterday in the mirrors outside the aptitude testing rooms. My eyes looks darker, my skin whiter. I don't smile at my reflection this time.  
"What color were you thinking?" Lyn-Z asks, throwing a cloth around my front and snapping it behind my neck.  
"Black."  
"Ooh, original," she teases.  
"Oh yeah?" I tease back. "Maybe I should get green, like Jenna."  
"Oh, honey, she'd have your head," Lyn-Z laughs. "Black it is then.  
She massages in the coloring and tells me to sit and wait. After a few minutes another boy walks in.  
"Frank, my favorite customer!"  
Frank grins at Lyn-Z until he spots me. His glare could melt ice.  
"Hey Lyn," he says, turning away from me.  
"Am I finally allowed to fix that mess on your head?"  
"Yup," he smirks.  
"Fantastic. Get those bandages off, let's see the damage."  
I can't help but watch out of the corner of my mirror as Frank unwinds the white bandages around his head. They must have buzzed all his hair off at the hospital, because his black locks are gone. Instead, he has an inch or so of dark brown hair, barely concealing the jagged scar across his head.  
Lyn-Z clucks her tongue but doesn't say anything, simply steers him toward the chair next to me. He asks for a black stripe down the center and red on the sides.  
While she works they chat about people in the faction, things that Lyn-Z's been up to, how the first day of training went. When she mentions his stay in the hospital he just scoffs.  
"You know they tried to get me to talk to an Amity therapist?"  
Lyn-Z rolls her eyes. "Please."  
"Right? Like I'm suddenly gonna be a little bitch because I got my head split open."  
They laugh and I focus on my hands under the black cloth.  
"Alright, you let that sit while I rinse Gerard. And no scratching, Frank, I mean it."  
He sticks his tongue out at her, the same face he made when he jumped off the roof yesterday. Lyn-Z smacks his arm.  
She spins my chair around and reclines me back into a sink. Her fingers feel amazing on my scalp as she rinses the black dye away.  
"Ooh, it looks great," she smiles when I sit up.  
I spin to look in the mirror and grin. The last of my old faction is gone from my appearance, and I feel so much better now.  
"You're from Abnegation, right?" Lyn-Z asks as she runs her fingers through my hair, fussing with it. It's like she read my mind.  
"How'd you know that?" I ask.  
"I can always tell by the way they look at their reflections."  
"Really?"  
"Greedy and ashamed," Lyn-Z laughs. "It's always the same expression."  
"Oh, huh. I guess you're right," I laugh with her.  
"Why greedy and ashamed?" demands Frank. I look over and he frowns at me.  
Lyn-Z answers without noticing our staring contest.  
"Vanity leads to something, something leads to selfishness, right Gerard?"  
"Pride," I answer, looking away from Frank. "Vanity leads to pride. I was allowed to look in a mirror once a month when my mother trimmed my hair. Any more than that would have been vain."  
Frank's face scrunches up in what looks like disgust.  
"That's stupid. God, no wonder you all look awful."  
"Don't be a brat, Frank," Lyn-Z scolds.  
"How'd you know about the vanity, Lyn-Z?" I ask, ignoring Frank.  
"I've had a few Stiffs in these chairs. The girls, especially, like to talk about it when they first get here."  
"Amity, right?" I say.  
"Excuse me?"  
"You were from Amity?"  
"Why would you think that?" she asks.  
"I can tell by your smile."  
She blinks, then starts laughing. "Oh, you are just a little flirt!" She waves her hands at me.  
"Go on, get outta here. Your hair is all done."  
She pulls the cloth away from me and I stand up.  
"Thank you."  
"No problem, just make sure you come back every few weeks so I can touch up the roots."  
"I will."  
I leave, ignoring the look Frank is tossing my way, and head to the cafeteria.

 

Ryan didn't cry last night, but I don't think he got much sleep either. Everyone is drooping over their breakfasts, but I feel great.  
My arms are sore and my right thumb is swollen from the backfire of the gun yesterday, but other than that I feel awake and alive.  
The rumbling of conversation is soothing to me, the darkness is a caress.  
I absolutely love Dauntless.

Frank and his friends are first in the training room this time, something that Brian does not mention. Frank's new hair color makes it look like he's bleeding and I wonder if it's intentional.  
It's a different room today, one with a green chalkboard on one wall and a large, red, spray painted circle on the floor. At the other end of the room are rows of what Ray tells me are punching bags. My thumb aches at the thought, but I push the pain away.  
"Today you will be learning to fight," Brian says. "You will practice on the bags first, then you will fight each other. Luckily we have an even number this year, so no one has to sit out."  
"Luckily," Brendon mumbles.  
"Did I just hear you volunteer for the first round, Brendon?" Brian demands.  
"Uh- yes, sir!"  
"Good."  
Brian turns on his heel and starts toward the punching bags, we follow after him. Brendon and Ryan share a wide-eyed glance.  
Brian demonstrates a number of punches and kicks, first on the air, then on the bags. We each take a bag and start practicing while he walks among us and corrects our stances or how we shift our weight.  
I don't pay attention to how everyone else is doing today, instead I focus on my arms and legs and the black, heavy bag in front of me.  
Brian tells me to change my footing once, but other than that he leaves me be.  
Before we leave for lunch, Brian tells us to eat light. "I don't want anyone puking in my training room, you got that?"  
The transfers pick at their food silently.

Everyone is jittery when we return. Brian is by the chalkboard, writing our names in two rows.  
Brendon is first, stepping into the circle against Jeph; the Dauntless boy with the designs in his hair.  
It's difficult to watch, but I force myself not to look away. I watch how Jeph moves instead of watching Brendon get beat to a bloody pulp. The fight ends when Brendon stops getting to his feet.  
Some Dauntless members arrive and carry him away on a stretcher to their private hospital wing. The rest of the transfers are scared now, shifting from foot to foot, glancing at their names on the board.  
Quinn fights Ryan, and Ryan loses quickly.  
Patrick goes against Pete and manages to land a few hits before Pete bashes him on the jaw and knocks him unconscious.  
I'm up next, fighting against the long-haired boy, Bert.  
As we step into the ring I wonder if hair pulling is a cowardly or smart tactic. I wonder if I'll have the time to find out.  
Bert moves fast and his blows land like lightning, searing into my face and sides. I get a kick to his left side in and he hunches over for a second. I move to punch him but he dodges. The next time I try to land a kick, he catches my foot and flips me to the ground.  
He jumps on me as I try to roll. He catches me and locks his arm around my neck, cutting off my air supply.  
I struggle for what feels like hours until Brian calls our match.  
Bert won, but I'm the first transfer to stay conscious through their fight.  
I could leave for the hospital, since my face is bleeding in a few places, but I stay to watch Ray and Frank's fight.  
Frank uses his small size to his advantage, and Ray is too slow to land anything more than a glancing blow. Frank is fast; darting around, striking hard.  
Ray gets carried to the hospital, one side of his face swelling up and his nose broken.  
Part of me never wants to have to fight against Frank, the other half wants to fight him and win.

Four hospital beds are filled with my new friends. A Dauntless man patches up my face and tells me to talk sparingly until the brusing around my throat fades.  
Every breath feels like shards of glass. I drink water and wait for the transfers to wake up.  
At dinner they talk about the fights, wincing with every movement and staring glumly at their food. The general mood has definitely dropped at our table. We discuss the other boys' fighting styles and brainstorm ideas on how to beat each one.

Apparently the Dauntless-born boys don't hold grudges like I thought they would. That night in our dormitory they chat nicely enough with each other and us. Bert claps me on the shoulder and tells me I've got potential. I try to grin at him, since I'm not supposed to talk too much, but it comes out as more of a pained grimace. He laughs, then moves on to complement Ryan's black eye.  
"It's gonna look awesome in the morning," he chuckles.  
"I hope it feels awesome in the morning," Ryan mutters.  
Frank is the only one who doesn't join in on the banter. I can feel his angry eyes on me whenever I turn my back, but when I look around, he's busy doing something else.  
_Maybe he sees me as a threat,_ I think that night, lying in my bed and trying not to move too much. _He wants the number one spot, and if he sees me as a threat, then I must be doing better than I thought._

We fight again the next day and the transfers are confronted with a scenario they didn't come up with at lunch yesterday.  
We have to fight each other, too.  
Ray destroys Ryan, though it's obvious he's trying to hold back without looking like he's holding back.  
Patrick and Brendon are evenly matched, but Brendon eventually wins.  
Frank and Quinn tease each other as they step into the red circle, then they punch the hell out of each other.  
Bert and Pete are the same way. The Dauntless-born boys must have learned to put their friendships aside when they fight. It's an advantage that the transfers don't have.  
I fight against Jeph and he gets in so many elbow jabs that I wonder if I'll ever be able to draw a full breath again.

A nurse assures me that I don't have any broken ribs, and that's the best news I've had all day.  
Ryan's face looks like a pile of raw meat. Even through Ray's bandages I can tell that he feels terrible.  
On the way to dinner, Patrick stumbles over a dark patch of hallway. Pete swoops in from nowhere and catches him, then helps him hobble to the cafeteria.  
I wonder if beating each other half to death is forming a weird sort of bond between our two groups, but then I catch Frank's glare. Even hidden behind a black eye and split lips, his hatred of me is clear.  
I decide I can't wait to fight him.

We get a reprieve for a day as we go back to shooting guns and throwing knives. Then we fight again, then we shoot again. More fighting, more shooting.

 

I wake up one morning and realize with a jolt that it's Visiting Day. The day when families can choose to visit their children.  
I wonder who's parents will show up.  
I wonder if I still want to see mine. I wonder what Mikey will say when he sees me.  
I'm thinner now, leaner with more muscle. Any pudge I had before the Choosing Ceremony has been burned away by rigorous exercise.  
My face is thinner, bruised. My hair is black. Maybe he'll see me and run away, terrified. Maybe he'll decide never to join Dauntless, no matter what. Maybe he won't even recognize me. Maybe someday he'll forget he ever had a brother.  
I want him to transfer to Amity and live in blissful peace; singing songs and picking apples. I want that for him.  
Breakfast is weird. The transfers are morosely picking at their food, thinking about their families and if they'll show up. The Dauntless-born are excited to see their parents after two weeks of being separated, though they're obviously trying not to show it.  
We've started sitting as a whole group, the five transfer boys and the five Dauntless-born boys intermingled. Frank always sits as far as he can from me, and I think that's just fine. Bert usually chooses the chair next to mine, but I don't devote much thought as to why.  
Brendon helps Ryan cut his food. Pete watches Patrick with mischievous eyes. Jeph and Quinn are talking to Ray. Frank is stabbing at his breakfast. Bert keeps nudging my foot with his.  
Suddenly it's time.  
We walk together toward the Pit, barely speaking. Brian's warning from last night is ringing in my ears.  
_Don't appear too affectionate, people will think you're weak. Don't act like you regret choosing Dauntless, people will think you're a traitor. Don't cry, especially if no one shows up._  
In the middle of the bottom floor of the Pit stands an odd collection of people. Dauntless, Amity, Abnegation, Candor.  
Rays parents didn't show, neither did Patrick's. They stop at the edge of the floor as the rest of us walk forward. I hear them turn and leave.  
I zero in on the plain, grey clothes of Abnegation. My mom, with her frizzled blonde hair pulled back in a knot and her frail hands clasped in front of her. My dad, his dark hair greying at the temples and his wide shoulders hunched forward.  
Mikey. Mikeymikeymikey.  
I rush forward and fall to my knees in front of my brother, pulling him into a tight hug.  
My parent's disapproval is coming off them in waves, but I don't care. Mikey hugs me back.  
"Mikey, I missed you so much," I say, pulling away to look at his face.  
I can't believe that he's changed in two short weeks, but he looks older now. His thirteenth birthday should be coming up soon.  
"I missed you too," Mikey nods. "I want you to come home."  
My eyes are burning with repressed tears. I grit my teeth and force myself not to cry.  
"I live here now, Mikey. You know that."  
"I just miss you," he mutters.  
I hug him again, pulling his bony little body against my chest. When I stand to face my parents, I leave a hand on Mikey's head.  
They're frowning; upset. I replay my conversation with Mikey in my head and realize that the selfish comments I used to scold him for passed by me without me even realizing it. Have I grow selfish myself, or am I just used to hearing it by now?  
"Gerard," my father says. "It's good to see you."  
"It's good to see you too. Thank you for coming to visit me."  
He and my mother both nod their heads at the same time and the action seems alien to me now.  
My mom touches my hair, gently and briefly. I know she still loves me. She's burning with questions but curiosity is selfish. I decide to answer them without prompting.  
"I had my hair dyed," I tell them. "The bruises don't hurt much. They take initiation very seriously here. I'm doing really good. Patrick is fine as well."  
They don't comment on the empty space where his parents should be, so I move on.  
"I'm happy here, I really am. Thank you for visiting and showing that you support and still love me. It's a gift that I cherish."  
My mother smiles and my dad nods. Mikey reaches up to pull my hand from his head, holding it with his thin fingers.  
"How have you been?" I question, knowing they won't tell me unless I ask.  
"We've been fine," my mother says softly. "The train tracks have been repaired and all the lines have been inspected and fixed."  
"Work in my office is going smoothly," my dad says. "There haven't been any political upsets in a while."  
"That's good." I should have known they wouldn't actually talk about themselves.  
"I got an A on my history quiz!" Mikey tells me.  
"Mikey," my mom scolds.  
"That's great Mikey," I smile. "I'm glad you're working hard in school. How are the bus rides?"  
"I walk to school now with a girl in my class named Alicia. Mom said I'm old enough now that I should walk so someone else can have my seat."  
I shoot my mom a look that she politely ignores.  
"Are your lungs okay, Mikey?" I ask, kneeling down again and looking up at his face.  
"They're better, watch!" He takes a deep inhale then lets the air all rush out at once. I laugh and he giggles. It's amazing to hear him be happy.  
I look up at my parent's disapproving faces.  
"Could I have the gift of privacy with my brother please?" I ask.  
"Of course."  
They move away and I pull Mikey close.  
"Listen Mikes, I want you to know that you are allowed to pick any faction you want when you get older, okay? Don't think you have to stay in Abnegation just to make mom and dad happy. Promise me you'll pick for yourself and no one else, okay?"  
"You're asking me to be selfish?" he asks.  
"I am. I was selfish to choose Dauntless, but I'm happier now then I ever have been. I want you to be happy, too."  
"I'm happy when I'm with you," he says seriously.  
My stomach twists and I remember the Amity girl jumping to her death on the first day. She followed Ryan to Dauntless, and she never even made it to the compound.  
"No matter what faction you choose, I promise we'll see each other when we grow up, okay? I want you to choose the faction _you_ want. Don't pick for anyone else but yourself."  
Mikey's eyes are starting to water.  
"Promise me, Mikey. Promise me you'll choose for you. Not me, or our parents, or any of your friends. Only you."  
He nods and the motion shakes loose a tear.  
"Okay Gerard, I promise."  
"I have to go now," _before I start crying_ , "but just remember that I love you no matter what."  
"I love you too, Gerard." His chest is rattling with sobs now, so I stand up and turn him toward our parents.  
"Go on Mikey, I'll see you around."  
He trots to our parents' sides and they are frowning at me- hard. They regret coming to visit, but I don't care. I said what I needed to say to protect Mikey. I don't care if my parents hate me for the rest of their lives for it or not.  
They turn to leave. I don't watch them walk away, instead I turn to go back to the dormitory.  
I spot Frank sitting high up in the wall of the Pit, glaring down at the families. I wonder where his Dauntless parents are, or if they're dead, or if they don't want to see him.  
I try not to care, but I still find myself curious.

 

We're woken in the middle of the night by shouting.  
"Out of bed you lazy shits!"  
Everyone starts moving, rolling out of bed, stumbling when their feet hit the floor.  
Flashlights are shining on our faces, blinding us.  
"Get dressed! Hurry up!"  
I start fumbling for my clothes, trying not to trip when I pull my pants up.  
"Fall in, let's go!"  
I recognize Jenna's voice, the faction leader who told us to jump on our first day.  
Everyone rushes to get in line, some people still pulling their shoes on.  
"Alright, we're taking a little field trip tonight," Jenna tells us.  
Next to her, a deep male voice speaks up. "Grab your jackets, it's gonna be cold."  
Bryar, another faction leader. What the hell is going on?  
A moment later we're all running, following the leaders out of the dormitory and up through the Pit. Ryan stumbles, almost falling from the path, but Ray and I both grab him at the same time. Ryan keeps moving, choking back a sob.  
We get outside and the chill air hits me like a slap. It's easier to see under the stars and full moon, so the leaders shut off their flashlights.  
"Everyone grab a gun!" Bryar commands.  
There's a small pile of long guns in front of us, and we all lurch forward. The first two to reach the pile, Brendon and Quinn, start handing the guns back for the rest of us then take the last two for themselves. I see Bryar and Jenna exchange a look.  
"We've got two minutes," Jenna says, "So let me explain what's happening tonight." She walks up the line of us and hands out little boxes labeled **PAINTBALLS** "We're going to be playing a game of capture the flag. This is a Dauntless tradition, so take it seriously. We'll divide you into two teams on the train and then-"  
"The train?" interrupts Frank. His voice is as sharp as broken glass.  
"Yes, the train. Do you have a problem with that?" Jenna asks.  
"...No."  
"Good."  
I glance along our line. The transfers are shifting nervously, but the Dauntless-born boys are standing completely still. Frank's jaw is twitching. It looks like he's trying to chew on his teeth.  
I remember my mother telling me about the train lines being repaired. I wonder if she was trying to warn me.  
"Here it comes," Bryar says. "Don't trip."  
A light is approaching, coming up on us quickly. The train is louder than I remember, but I've never actually been this close to it before. The leaders start running, followed immediately by the Dauntless-born boys. The rest of us run after them.  
I watch closely as Jenna leaps into an open car, rolling onto the floor and away from the edge. Bryar follows after, grabbing a handle and hoisting himself up.  
Before coming to Dauntless, I would have been out of breath by now, but after two weeks of training I feel like I could keep this pace up forever. If only my heart would stop pounding.  
Bert jumps in next, followed quickly by Jeph, Quinn, and Pete. Frank is the last to jump on, grabbing onto Quinn and Bert's outstretched hands and letting them pull him in.  
They turn back and help catch the rest of us, pulling us in and away from the open edge. Jeph helps steady me when I stand up.  
"Good, you all made it," Bryar yells over the rushing of the wind. He looks to the transfers. "What'd you think?"  
No one says anything, so I do.  
"Easier than it looks!" I yell.  
Bryar grins and the expression looks odd on his stern face. Jenna is laughing.  
"Alright, time to pick teams," Jenna says. "I'll go first."  
"Scared of getting the weaklings?" Bryar taunts.  
Her grin is feral looking. "Fine, you go first."  
"Frank," he says without pause.  
"Obvious," Jenna says, rolling her eyes.  
I look around to see Frank's reaction at being picked first. He's standing as far away from the open doors as he can, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he's hugging himself. His eyes are shut.  
The other four Dauntless-born boys are clustered next to him. They look incredibly tense.  
I realize with a sick twist in my stomach that they were all in the train crash a month and a half ago. Frank's hand reaches up to touch his black and red hair, fingers trailing over the jagged scar I know is hiding underneath.  
"My turn," Jenna shouts. "Jeph."  
"Gerard," Bryar retorts.  
I whip my head around to look at him, and he's grinning again.  
"Bert," Jenna yells.  
"Quinn."  
"Ray."  
They go back and forth until we're divided into two teams of five. I'm on Bryar's team with Frank, Quinn, Brendon, and Pete.  
"The rules are," Jenna shouts, "the first team to capture the other team's flag wins. If you get hit with a paintball you are out. Since Bryar got first pick, my team will be getting off first."  
"The field is two square miles of marsh, forest, abandoned buildings, and stretches of dirt," Bryar continues. "Hide your flag then come up with a strategy."  
They don't say anything else. I turn to look at Patrick, who is standing next to me.  
"The tracks are fine," I tell him, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind. "The Abnegation volunteers checked and repaired all the lines."  
"How do you know that?" Bert demands.  
"My mother told me when she visited. She was in charge of the volunteers."  
Everyone seems to relax a bit and start breathing again. Everyone but Frank, who looks like he didn't even hear what I said.  
"Alright, get ready!" Jenna yells. "My team, to the doors!"  
Jeph, Bert, Ray, Patrick, and Ryan move forward. Jenna jumps first, and they quickly follow.  
"Listen up!" Bryar shouts as soon as they're clear. "Jenna's team has the field advantage. They have buildings and bridges to hide in. We'll be stationed mostly in the trees. I want you to start coming up with a plan _now_."  
I turn to my teammates.  
"Hiding it up a tree seems too obvious," Brendon immediately states.  
"Yeah, but that might be our only option," Quinn says.  
"The younger members talk about capture the flag all the time," Pete tells us. "The first team always hides it on the pier, the second team always hides it up a tree."  
"They told you that?" Brendon asks.  
"I listen," Pete grins.  
"Okay, if you know that then we have to assume Jeph and Bert know it too, which means they won't pick the pier, and they'll be searching the trees," I say.  
"If there's rocks we can hide the flag behind them," Quinn says, "But we won't really know until we get there."  
Quinn, Brendon, and Pete keep discussing tactics. I look around to see Frank still standing in the back of the car, arms wrapped around his chest.  
"Hey Frank!" I yell. "Care to join your team?"  
He doesn't react at all. I don't think he's even there. I frown and return to the discussion.  
"This is our stop!" Bryar shouts a minute later.  
We all hurry to the edge of the car. Quinn has to go back and grab Frank.  
"Hey, are you with us?" Quinn shouts in his ear.  
Frank's eyes are open but he doesn't acknowledge the question.  
"I swear to God, Frank, if I have to push you-!" Bryar growls.  
Frank is the first to jump, again. He lands hard and rolls across the dirt. The rest of us immediately follow. I land on my feet and stumble, but manage to stay up.  
Quinn pulls Frank to his feet and we rush into the trees.  
"They're too far apart for any protection," I hiss.  
"We need to find rocks or a hill," Brendon mutters back.  
We spread out a bit, running forward in a line, guns held tightly in front of us. Bryar jogs behind with the flag that's blinking with white lights.  
"There!" Pete suddenly says.  
We all look where he's pointing and spot a single abandoned little house. Half of the roof has caved in, but the door is standing open.  
"It's obvious, but it's the best we've got," I say. "We'll just have to get them before they get us."  
Brendon heads in first, gun held at the ready. Bryar hands over the flag and we shove it in the crumbling fireplace. The flashing lights illuminate the windows.  
"Some of us should stay here and some of us should go hunting," Quinn mutters.  
"Who stays, who goes?" Pete asks.  
I see Bryar watching us closely, frowning in concentration.  
"Frank and Gerard are the best shots," Brendon says. His lips twist like he's tasting something sour, and I realize how hard it is for him to put his pride aside and admit we're better then him. "They should go, the rest of us should scatter out around the house and guard the flag."  
"He's right," Pete nods.  
Everyone looks at me and Frank. I nod. Frank looks like he's in his head again.  
"Frank!" I hiss.  
He startles and looks at me. His pupils seem to take up all the space in his eyes.  
"Anything to add?" I ask.  
He glances around at our team and his expression hardens.  
"Yeah, fine. Let's go."  
"Can I count on you to have my back out there?" I demand.  
He glares at me. "Sure."  
It sounds sarcastic but we don't have time to argue.  
"Good." I turn to Quinn, Pete, and Brendon. "Can any of you climb trees?"  
Quinn and Pete nod.  
"Alright, hide as well as you can and keep your eyes open. We'll be back with their flag soon."  
Everyone except Frank grins, even Bryar.  
Pete scouts for us before we leave the building, just in case the other team has managed to find us. No one shoots, so Frank and I run off into the trees.  
After a few hundred feet I hiss, "we should check the pier first, just in case."  
"Yeah," he mutters.  
"Are you good?"  
"I'm fucking fine, let's go."  
We find the pier easily enough and hide behind some trees to search for the other team or their flag.  
"There," Frank eventually whispers. "By the carousel."  
I flick my eyes over to the old, broken ride. Patrick, Ryan, and Ray are scattered around it.  
"They did what we did," I say softly. "Two best shooters in the woods, the rest left to guard."  
"I can take them out," Frank says, already lifting his gun.  
"Not from here!" I hiss. "As soon as you get one shot off the other two will hide and there's a lot of space between here and there. They'll pick us off as we try to get closer."  
"Then what do you suggest?" he growls.  
I shut my eyes for a moment, controlling my anger. When I open them Frank quickly flicks his eyes away from mine.  
"You're faster than I am," I say. "If I draw their fire you can sneak around and search the carousel for the flag while they're distracted."  
"And if you get shot? I'll be stranded behind enemy lines!"  
"I won't get shot, look who we're up against!"  
Frank's angry eyes look over our opponents. He grits his teeth.  
"Ray's the best shot out of the three," he mutters. "Take him out first."  
"Fine. Don't come back unless you have the flag."  
"Fuck you," he whispers. He's gone before I can respond, fading into the dark silently.  
_Jerk_ , I think to myself.  
I give Frank a moment to get into position, then I aim.  
Ray goes down with a paintball to his thigh. Patrick and Ryan turn to look at him. Ray motions for them to hide, but they're too slow.  
I catch Ryan in the stomach and Patrick in the small of his back. I feel bad, but there's nothing I can do about it.  
As soon as I hit Patrick, Frank is sprinting back toward me, flag in hand. It's glowing like a beacon and he doesn't slow as he reaches me. I turn and run after him, back into the woods.  
When we get close to our abandoned building, we slow down and listen.  
Everything's quiet, except for the occasional puff of air from a gun. I can hear our team muttering to one another.  
"Shit, they're here," Frank whispers. He stuffs the flag into his shirt and crouches behind a tree. I copy him.  
"They must be hidden so that our team can't hit them, but they're not backing down," I say. "Our team is hidden well enough that they can't take them out either."  
"They're at a stand-off."  
"We need to shoot Bert and Jeph to win this thing."  
Frank nods just as a twig to our left snaps. We both shuffle around to put our trees between us and the noise. I hear whispers and I'm struck with a sudden idea.  
"Bert?" I call out. "Jeph?"  
Frank's glaring at me, but I'm grinning.  
"...That you, Gerard?" Bert calls back.  
"Yup. We got your flag," I yell.  
One of them curses and Frank starts grinning too.  
"The carousel, guys?" Frank calls into the darkness. "Come on, everyone hides it there."  
"So easy," I tease.  
"I knew we shouldn't have left them behind," Jeph mutters.  
"Shut up, Jeph!" Bert hisses.  
A shot from one of our team wizzes past and Frank uses the distraction to move to a different tree, closer to where Bert and Jeph's voices are coming from. I have to press a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.  
I keep talking, drawing their attention to me while Frank slides closer.  
"I almost felt bad taking them out," I call. "They weren't even hiding, just standing around!"  
"Fucking idiots," Bert curses.  
"How's our team doing?" I ask casually "Did you get any of them yet, or are they too well hidden?"  
The silence that follows is heavy with resentment. I laugh.  
"I'll take that as a _we don't even know where they are_."  
"I'm gonna shoot you right on your bruised ribs, Gerard," Bert threatens.  
"You can try!" I sing-song.  
Suddenly there's a puff of air and a curse. Frank shot Jeph. Bert takes off running and is immediately gunned down by Quinn, Brendon, and Pete.  
Our team erupts into cheers as Frank and I jog out of the woods, Frank waving the flag over his head. The three boys drop from various trees and we all collide in a hug. Bert and Jeph are walking over, shoulders hunched.  
Our hug breaks apart and Bryar is congratulating us. I walk over to Bert.  
"Sorry," I chuckle.  
"Don't apologize, idiot," Bert grins. "You kicked our asses, fair and square."  
"Yeah," Jeph adds. "No offense taken."  
They clap me on the shoulder, Bert's hand lingering longer than Jeph's. I spot Frank glaring at me again.  
Well, that didn't last long.

 

"Last day of stage one," is the first thing said the next morning.  
Everyone is tired from spending half the night in the woods, but we're all covering it up with nerves and excitement.  
I'm glad stage one is almost over. I'm nervous to see the rankings. I'm worried about stage two.  
We sit grouped together at breakfast, quiet, subdued.  
"Maybe we'll have target practice," Brendon suggests in a falsely upbeat voice.  
"You know we won't," I say.  
"We've all had eight fights so far," states Ray. "Eight different opponents. He's gonna make us fight."  
Everyone's eyes find the one person they haven't yet fought. Frank glares at me from the opposite end of the table. I glare back.  
"But still," Brendon tries, "at least we won't have to fight after this."

In the training room we gather loosely around the red, spray-painted circle. People glance at the chalkboard just to see the order for the fights. We all know who we're fighting already.  
I don't pay attention to the fights. I don't bounce on my toes or swing my arms in preparation like some of the others.  
Frank and I stand completely still on opposite sides of the circle, staring each other down while the other boys fight.  
When it's our turn, we both step into the circle carefully. I've watched him fight eight times now. I know how he moves, how he strikes. I know I have to get the first hit in if I'm going to stand a chance.  
Frank's jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed. He's watching my hands, held up in fists in front of my face. I'm watching his eyes, they widen just a fraction as he takes his first swing.  
I duck backward, avoiding his fist, then dart back in. My knuckles connect with his wide jaw and the jolt travels up my arm. My other arm swings up but he blocks it. His fist finds my stomach, I hunch forward. He tries to jab his elbow down on my back but I dance away.  
I have longer legs, longer arms. I can stay out of his reach and still be able to hit him. I know that if I get too close again he might take me down.  
I fake a punch, he moves to block it. I slam the top of my foot against his ribs and he growls. He darts in before I can get my footing again and tackles me to the ground.  
I roll my hips, trying to knock him off, but he's raining blows down on me so fast and hard I start to lose focus.  
With a scream of frustration I throw him off and scramble to straddle him. Now I'm the one punching him over and over.  
He's not going to get knocked out, he's never been knocked out.  
I bloody his face but he blocks one of my punches, reaching up with the other hand to twist his fingers into my hair. He tugs to the side and pulls me off of him. He's on his feet before I can do anything, then he starts kicking me in the stomach.  
I crawl to my hands and knees, but he kicks again and I'm back down. I'm glad I only had a piece of bread for breakfast.  
He's back on me again, knees on either side of my stomach. His face is contorted with rage as he wraps his hands around my throat.  
"Frank!"  
Someone's pulling Frank away while someone else helps me to my feet.  
Brian is looking between the two of us. "That's enough."  
"Our fight's not over!" I shout. From across the circle I see Frank struggling against Bert and Jeph, trying to reach me.  
"You wouldn't have stopped til one of you was dead!" Brian shouts back. "I've had enough of whatever is going on between you two. Hospital wing- now."  
The sound I make is not human but I don't get a chance to argue. Ray and Quinn grab me by the arms and pull me from the room.

I have a fractured rib. The left half of my face is swollen, black and purple. There's a ringing in my left ear that I can't seem to shake. My stomach keeps clenching and I can't keep anything down but water. It feels like my knuckles have been ground into dust but the nurse assures me they're fine. I can't stop licking blood away from my split lip. My throat is bruised again.  
Patrick, Ray, Brendon, and Ryan are clustered around me. At the other end of the hospital wing, the Dauntless-born initiates are clustered around Frank.  
Apparently they reached an agreement to keep Frank and I separated after our fight. I think they're all cowards, traitors. I tell them as much, but all I get in return are a few eye rolls and a smack to the back of the head from Brendon.  
Brian stops in before dinner to tell us that if we're caught fighting outside of training, we'll be reprimanded, "severely".  
Dinner is tense. I munch on bread, Frank sips soup out of a cup. I'm pleased to see his eye blackened and swollen shut.  
The others are chatting like normal, but they keep glancing between Frank and I, seated at far opposite ends of the table like usual.  
I don't turn my back on Frank for a second that night. I only allow myself to fall asleep once I hear his breathing even out from across the room.

 

My whole midsection protests as I roll out of bed the next morning. I would much rather just spend the whole day in bed, but Brendon wouldn't stop poking me until I woke up.  
And no wonder, Brian is standing in the door, waiting.  
"Rankings," he says curtly.  
And just like that I'm wide awake.  
Brian walks to the chalkboard at the end of our dormitory and takes it down. He starts writing, not letting us see.  
Everyone starts gathering around, twitching, shifting from foot to foot. Ryan is near the back of the group, looking at his feet. Frank is leaning against the wall opposite me, arms crossed, staring at Brian.  
Brian finishes writing and hangs the chalkboard up again. We all press forward once he moves out of the way.

1\. Frank  
2\. Gerard

I feel the dizziness of relief and shock roll through me.

3\. Bert  
4\. Jeph  
5\. Quinn  
6\. Pete  
7\. Ray  
8\. Brendon  
9\. Patrick  
10\. Ryan

Quinn, Jeph, and Bert are clapping each other on the shoulders, laughing. Pete is chewing on his tongue and glaring at the board. The transfers are silently nodding to themselves or turning away from the board.  
Frank takes one look at his name in the first place slot, then walks out of the room.  
I follow, curious as to where he's heading, and either no one notices, or no one cares.  
I spot his heel disappearing around a corner, I hurry to catch up without alerting him to my presence. He travels a long way and I'm about to give up and turn around when I hear his sneakers come to a stop.  
I stop as well, hiding around a corner and listening.  
"I got the top ranking," Frank says.  
"I know," responds a scratchy voice. Male, probably middle aged. Not a voice I've heard yet. "I've seen the tapes, spoke to your instructor."  
"Well, aren't you... gonna congratulate me?" Frank's voice sounds smaller than I've ever heard it sound.  
"Why would I?" asks the man. "The first phase is not hard and barely important. I would've been embarrassed if you _hadn't_ ranked first."  
"So...?" Frank's voice is even softer now.  
"I heard you tied with one of the Abnegations yesterday."  
"Brian broke us up before we could finish, I would have won!"  
"You sound very sure."  
There's a long pause and I start to edge away from the corner to leave.  
"I'll be watching the tapes from the second phase as well, Frank," says the man. "You better impress me."  
"I will."  
I turn and pad silently away, slipping around a corner and heading for the cafeteria.  
So, Frank is trying to impress someone. One of the faction leaders? Pete said early on that the higher your rank, the better job opportunities you get. Does Frank have his eye on the position of faction leader?  
He seems too quiet for a leadership position, and certainly too soft if just speaking to one of the actual leaders made him sound like a child.  
With a jolt I remember that I ranked second and I might have the option of being a leader one day. Is that what I want?

When I get to the cafeteria, I find the eight other boys already clustered around our usual table. I sit in the seat that Bert motions to- the one next to him- then pause when I notice Pete staring intently at me from across the table.  
"You edged me out of the top five, Stiff," he says, twirling a fork around in his fingers.  
I mentally go through the motions of what I'll do if Pete attacks. I'd push away from the table, roll back and jump to my feet. I'd have to get my hands on a weapon since Pete has a fork, so maybe I could grab a knife from the table behind me and-  
"I should be pissed," Pete continues, "but I'm actually grudgingly impressed. Good job, dude."  
He reaches out with an open hand. The other boys don't seem tense, so I reach out and we shake. Pete grins and our table starts to laugh.  
Over Pete's shoulder I see Bryar and Brian watching us, muttering. Before I have time to worry about it, Frank arrives.  
"Frankie!" Bert calls. "Number one!"  
Frank shoots a grin at him.  
"Come on, Bert," I say, mock-offended. "Aren't you gonna congratulate me, too?"  
Bert rolls his eyes and turns to me.  
"Being second is as impressive as being third, in that it's _not_ , because you're not first."  
"You just don't want to admit that I'm better than you," I laugh.  
"Yeah, yeah, I could still kick your ass." He puts a hand on the side of my face and pushes me away a bit.  
Our table erupts into friendly bickering, a few pieces of food being tossed back and forth. I catch Bryar's eye from across the cafeteria and he looks intensely focused.  
I glance at Frank, expecting to meet his glare, only to see that his eyes are on his food and his thin lips are turned down in a frown.

On the walk up the edge of the Pit the other boys are debating on what they should each get as a tattoo. Some of them are considering getting piercings now that the physical part of initiation is over. I leave them in the parlor and head straight to the salon.  
"You should let me cut it," Lyn-Z says as soon as she sees me. "It's getting a bit shaggy.  
"Just a dye today, I think."  
She gets me settled in a chair then gets to work.  
"So are you gonna ask?" I wonder.  
"About what?"  
"We got our rankings today."  
"Oh really?" she says absently, massaging her fingers through my hair. "Two weeks already? Time flies."  
"Don't make me beg, Lyn-Z," I groan.  
"Alright, alright. What rank did you get?"  
I shake my arm free of the fabric covering my clothes and hold up two fingers.  
"Shut up! You did _not_ rank second!"  
"Whoa! Thanks for the vote of confidence," I laugh. "And yes, I totally did."  
"Who got last?" she asks.  
"Aren't you supposed to ask who got first?"  
"Well, Frank- obviously."  
I blink. She rolls her eyes.  
"Ryan got last, since you're curious."  
"That little mousey boy?" she wonders. Her gloves snap as she peels them off and tosses them in a can.  
"Yeah, I think he was expecting it." I watch her putter around the counter for a moment. "Am I allowed to ask what rank you got at the end of your initiation?"  
She chuckles. "That's another Abnegation thing, asking if you can ask something."  
"Fine, what rank did you get?"  
She raises her plucked eyebrows at me in the mirror.  
"Honey, I work in a hair salon. What rank do you _think_ I got?"  
"Oh...." I look around. "Maybe Ryan can be your protégé."  
She laughs and slaps my shoulder.

I am wide awake at breakfast the next morning. So awake I feel like my skin is going to vibrate right off my body.  
There's a tense atmosphere hovering around our table. Not the nervousness before a fight or the jitters before target practice. It's the uncertainty of a new phase.  
"Don't bother," Quinn says as soon as Brendon opens his mouth. "We don't know what it is."  
Brendon immediately turns to Pete, who usually has all the insider information- like which chef will slip cake to an initiate- but Pete shakes his head.  
"Nope, I don't know either. It's like, top secret or something. I just know that there's no way we could prepare for it."  
"We'll all be on even footing then," Ray mutters.  
"It's why the first phase is weighted less that the second, and the second less than the third," Frank says. I look over at him but he's staring at his food. "Physical strength isn't about bravery but more about... well, physical strength."  
"Not backing down from a fight though," Ryan says, "that's something you grew up learning to do."  
"Yeah," Frank nods. "But being able to fight isn't what makes this faction brave."

We sit in a dark hallway for twenty minutes before Brian appears and calls for Ryan.  
He gets to his feet shakily and walks forward.  
"You'll do great, Ryan," Patrick mutters.  
The rest of us nod and pile on encouragement. By the time Ryan reaches Brian, his back is a little straighter. They both disappear into a room.  
We're silent for another twenty minutes until Brian appears again and calls for Patrick. We call encouragements after him, too.  
"Ryan didn't come back, which means we're not gonna know what it is until we get in there," Ray mutters after a while.  
"Ryan's either in the dormitory or the hospital wing," Brendon adds.  
"If we don't all end up in the hospital wing, I think we should head right back to the dormitory afterward," Ray tells us.  
"Why?" Jeph asks.  
"After our first day of fighting, where we had to fight transfers against faction-born, we talked about our fights," Ray explains. "Everyone's weaknesses and strengths, how to do better, how to take down each opponent. It only makes sense that we should do that with whatever this phase is as well."  
"Just... talk about it?" Bert wonders.  
"Yeah," I nod. "What happened, who did what, how we could each do better."  
The Dauntless-born boys glance at each other, then Pete shrugs.  
"Yeah, alright," he says. "Sounds good to me."  
The others agree too, Frank just barely nodding.  
"Brendon."  
We look around to see Brian at the end of the hallway. I wonder how long he's been listening.  
"Good luck, man," I say as Brendon passes. The others join in again.  
As each of us gets called away, we continue our encouragement and praise. It seems to help each boy make it to down the hallway and to the mystery door.  
Soon it's down to just me, Bert, and Frank.  
"Are you two gonna be okay out here without a babysitter or is Brian gonna open that door to find you trying to kill each other again?" Bert asks.  
"I'm fine," I say, even though my throat is still sore and my ribs still ache.  
"Yeah, it's fine," Frank mutters. His eye isn't as swollen anymore, but it's still black.  
"You know if you kill each other," Bert continues, "I'll be ranked first, and that would just be embarrassing for the two of you and I'll make fun of you at your funerals. So keep it together, alright?"  
I nod, and so does Frank.  
Brian calls for Bert. I slap his hand on his way past and Frank tells him he'll do great.  
The hall is silent for a few moments, but then I can't take it anymore.  
"So, do you know what it is?" I ask.  
"What?"  
"The second phase, do you know what it is?"  
He grits his teeth. "If I did, I would have told Bert and them."  
"Unless you want an advantage."  
"I don't need an advantage."  
Another minute of silence.  
"So," I say, "are you gonna wish me luck when I get called, or do you hate me too much?"  
"I don't hate you," he mutters.  
"You obviously do," I contradict.  
"Does it matter?" he demands, finally looking up from his knees to glare at me. "Do you need encouragement to make it down the hall?"  
"Bert, Jeph, Quinn, and Pete didn't need encouragement to make it down the hall, you still gave it."  
"They're my friends."  
"You encouraged the transfers as well," I point out.  
"Because they're weak," he grits out. "You're ranked second, you should start acting like it."  
"What does that mean?"  
He ignores the question. "I'm ranked first, which means I'm not going to get any encouragement when I walk to that door. It means I'm going to sit here alone until Brian calls me. Why should I help you if no one's going to help me?"  
"You're ranked first, I thought you didn't need any help."  
He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.  
"Out of everyone here, you're the one person who knows that isn't true."  
I'm confused for a second, until the memory of the train crash comes back to me. With everything going on in initiation, I had almost forgot.  
"Frank-" I start.  
"Gerard," calls Brian.  
Frank doesn't look up as I climb to my feet. I start to walk away but pause.  
"Good luck, Frank."  
"...You too."  
He doesn't look up when he says it, but I don't care. I keep walking until I reach Brian.

"You are the oddest group of initiates I've ever trained, you know that?"  
"Uh," I answer intelligently. I'm too focused on the reclined chair and the wires and the angry looking machine to focus on Brian's words.  
"Anyway, welcome to phase two."  
"An aptitude test?" I wonder.  
"A simulation," he corrects. He points to the chair so I move forward and lay back.  
"This serum," he says, "is different from the aptitude test serum. It's purpose is to hone in on your amygdala and activate fear in your brain. The simulation will be of something you're afraid of and it won't stop until you get your heartbeat back to a normal rate."  
He picks a syringe off the metal table and holds it up.  
"Oh, no. No no no," I say, squirming away from the needle.  
"What?" he demands.  
"You can't. You can't stick that in me," I choke.  
He looks from me to the syringe, then rolls his eyes.  
"Oh for God's sake, you're scared of needles?"  
"I'm- I'm not _scared_ of them," I protest weakly.  
"Good, because I'm sticking this in your neck whether you like it or not, so chill out."  
I lay back down and squeeze my eyes shut.  
"Stop clenching your jaw or it's gonna hurt more than it needs to."  
I try to relax.  
I make a ridiculous noise when the needle slips under my skin, but I dig my nails into the armrests and manage not to pull away.  
"Alright, it'll start working in a minute," Brian says. "Be glad that your little hissy fit wasn't recorded because I don't think the faction leaders would be very impressed.  
"Fuck," I mutter.  
"Wow, a Stiff swore," Brian chuckles. "Maybe you'll do better here than I thought."  
A moment passes, then he says, "here it goes. Be brave, Gerard."

I open my eyes and try to get my bearings. Where the hell am I?  
I try to move, but something is wrapped around my wrists and ankles. I frantically look down to see myself strapped to a hospital bed, wearing a white hospital gown.  
"What the-"  
Something clicks. I search the room with my eyes but the corners are too dark for me to see. There's only one light and it's right above my bed, intensely bright and hot. I'm sweating.  
"Who's there?" I demand of the shadowed corners.  
Someone steps forward, into the light. Then another, then another.  
A dozen people. Doctors, I correct myself. A dozen faceless, mask-wearing doctors wielding syringes filled with black liquid.  
"No, nononono-" I try to fight against my restraints as they inch closer and closer. One of them presses down on a plunger slightly and black liquid streams out, a few beads of it sliding down the long needle.  
"Oh, God," I groan, squeezing my eyes shut.  
I feel the first needle slip into my wrist. It hurts. It hurts like nothing else I've ever felt. The black liquid is racing through my veins and turning my blood into fire.  
Another needle finds the bend of my arm. Another between my toes. One in my neck. There are fingers in my mouth, prying my teeth apart and pressing a needle under my tongue.  
_No, no, no,_ I think.  
I'm not supposed to get injections. Everyone knows I can't get injections. Even Patrick knows that, and we hardly ever talk!  
One of the doctors sticks the needle through my closed eyelid and right into my eye. I feel it sink in and scratch against my skull.  
My parents would never let this happen. They request that I never get any injections or IVs whenever I have to go to the hospital. Even Mikey, when he's really sick, makes sure I'm out of the room before he gets any shots.  
_Mikey_.  
Mikey would never let this happen. Mikey would be standing by my bedside, fighting the faceless doctors off tooth and nail if he had to. Whenever we went to the hospital, Mikey would hold my hand and protect me, even if he was the one who was sick or hurt.  
_Mikey will protect me. Mikey will protect me._

I open my eyes and yell, batting away the faceless doctors.  
"Jesus!" Brian yells, jumping back from my fists. "Gerard! It's over!"  
I blink and realize my arms and legs are free. No one is injecting me with anything. It was a simulation. I cover my face with my hands.  
"Twelve minutes, not bad for your first time."  
"That was... That was awful," I mutter.  
"Yeah, it was pretty creepy to watch," Brian agrees.  
"You were watching?" I ask, pulling my hands away to see his face.  
"Yup, and recording. The video will be sent to the faction leaders."  
I remember Frank's conversation with the mystery man.  
_I'll be watching the tapes from the second phase as well, Frank. You better impress me._  
So, he was talking to a faction leader. I realize Brian is still talking.  
"Fuck, after seeing that, I'm surprised you actually let me stick a needle in your neck!"  
I shudder.  
"I guess I'm braver out here than in my head," I sigh.  
"Everyone has fears, Gerard," Brian says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It'll get easier with time. One of the points of being Dauntless is being able to overcome your fears and face them head on."

Back in the dormitory, the other boys are sitting in a loose circle on the floor. They look up when I come in. I sit down.  
Bert hands me a bottle and I take a swig without even caring. It's alcohol and it burns on the way down, settling in my stomach like a rock that's been sitting in the sun all day.  
I pass it on.  
After a few minutes of silence I ask, "Where'd you get that?"  
Pete grins a shaky grin. "I know a guy who knows a guy."  
"Of course you do," I laugh. The sound is hollow and weak.  
We all look up when Frank enters. He's got scratch marks all over his face and neck. Quinn holds up the bottle and Frank takes it immediately, downing a large gulp.  
"Alright, so," Ray says softly. "We agreed to talk about it, and I guess we still should."  
"Yeah," Brendon nods. I've never seen him so withdrawn. "Yeah, okay. Who wants to start?"  
Bert takes the bottle and holds it up, like he's toasting.  
"I was in a room with no doors or windows and the walls and ceiling were slowly closing in on me." He takes a swig of alcohol and passes it on.  
Quinn holds the bottle up.  
"My skin was falling off in big chucks, like... wet paper or something." He drinks and passes it on.  
"I was floating in open water with sharks circling me, slowly biting chucks off." Ray drinks.  
"I was trapped in a coffin and people were throwing dirt on top." Brendon drinks.  
I hold the bottle up. "I was strapped to a hospital bed and a dozen faceless, mask-wearing doctors were sticking syringes filled with black liquid into me." I take a drink.  
"I was held at gunpoint and told that if I didn't shoot my mom and little sister in the head, that I would die." Jeph drinks.  
"Spiders," Frank says. "Hundreds of them, on my face and in my mouth and under my skin." I glance at the scratch marks on his face. He drinks.  
"I was standing on a stage surrounded by hundreds of people who were all screaming and throwing rocks at me." Pete drinks.  
"I was in a bathtub full of snakes. Naked." Patrick drinks.  
Ryan takes the bottle and just stares at it for a moment. "I don't... I can't."  
"Come on, Ryan," Quinn murmurs, not unkindly. "You'll feel better after you say it."  
We all pick up Quinn's soft encouragement, trying to help Ryan again.  
He jerks his arm into the air and squeezes his eyes shut.  
"My dad was hitting me his belt, screaming at me that I was a pointless piece of shit." He downs the rest of the bottle.  
There's a moment of tense silence, then Bert grabs the empty bottle and puts it in the air again.  
"To our worst fears," he says in the strongest voice he can manage.  
"To being brave," Ray adds, putting his fist in the air.  
"To being Dauntless," Frank amends.  
"Hear, hear!" we all yell, throwing our hands in together.

I look around the cafeteria at breakfast and realize that every single member of Dauntless had to go through the training that we're going through now. I don't know why it never occured to me before.  
Our table is not subdued, like I would have expected. Instead we're all joking and laughing, tossing peas at each other.  
We decided, as a group, that we wouldn't let the rest of the faction see our fear.  
"They think we're weak," Brendon reminded us. "We have to prove them wrong."  
So we laugh, we joke. Even after a night of terrifying dreams, we somehow find courage.

In the hall outside our simulation room, we drop all pretense.  
"I'm trying to decide if it's worse not knowing and wanting to get it over with, or knowing and having to wait around," Ray ponders out loud.  
"This is worse," Bert says.  
"Seconded," Pete adds.  
"Thirded," Brendon nods.  
We chuckle, weakly. I remember Brendon cracking jokes to keep our minds off the fights. He's brave. I can't believe he only ranked eighth.  
"Pete," I ask. "Is your friend of a friend hooking us up today?"  
"Count on it. He was an initiate last year so he still remembers exactly what it's like."  
Ray coughs out a weak laugh. "I'm trying to decide if it's awesome that he's getting us alcohol, or awful that we'll still be remembering this in a year."  
"Seriously," Bert mutters.

When Brian calls Ryan, we don't offer encouragement. Instead, someone starts stomping their feet on the floor and we all join in.  
We don't need empty words today, we need strength and bravery.  
Frank and I don't talk when we're the last ones. We just sit in silence, not looking at each other. I can't stop thinking about how he looked after I pulled him from that burning train car.  
"Gerard."  
I get up and start walking toward Brian and the door.  
Frank stomps his feet against the floor for me, his sneakers making a weak, echoing impression of what we did for Ryan. But he was right, we're the top two. We shouldn't need the others to help us.

I feel the wind in my hair before anything else. It's strong, tugging at my clothes and pulling me to the side.  
When I open my eyes I realize I'm on the top of the building that I landed on after the Choosing Ceremony. This is where we stood before we jumped into a black hole with no assurances that we would survive the fall.  
I look around and notice a small boy standing on the ledge. I take a step forward and he turns to smile at me.  
It's Mikey.  
"Mikey, what are you doing, get away from there!"  
"I'm Dauntless now, Gerard!" he squeaks.  
"No, no you're not!" I yell. "Get away from the ledge, Mikey!"  
"But I have to jump! I have to be brave like you if I'm gonna be in Dauntless."  
"Mikey, Mikey why did you choose Dauntless?" I demand, edging toward him.  
"So I could be with you!" he shouts, upset. "Don't you want me in your faction, Gerard?"  
"No, Mikey! You don't belong here! You promised you'd pick for you and no one else, remember?"  
"But you're my big brother."  
"Mikey, you can't do this. You are _not_ Dauntless, now get away from the ledge!"  
"But I can't turn back now, I'd be factionless!"  
"I'd rather you be factionless than dead!"  
I reach the ledge and peer over. I can see straight to the bottom- and there's no net.  
"Would you come with me?" he asks. "Would you be factionless with me?"  
I glance over the edge again then back to Mikey.  
I can feel tears in my eyes.  
"Dauntless is my home, Mikey."  
He nods, his glasses slipping down his nose.  
"Then I'll be Dauntless, too."  
He puts his arms out to the side, like a fragile little bird, and steps off the roof, plummeting straight down.  
I hear the _thump_ of him hitting the ground and I cry out. I scream, tearing at my hair. I fall to my knees, weeping, calling out Mikey's name over and over.  
Eventually I have no emotion left in me. I'm empty; a shell. I stop crying.

"Thirty two minutes."  
I open my eyes.  
"Thirty two minutes, Gerard."  
Brian sounds pissed. I look over at him and he's frowning at me, his tattooed arms crossed in front of his chest.  
"You ever hear the phrase _faction before blood_ , Gerard?"  
"Of course I have," I say, sitting up and swinging my feet to the floor.  
"Then you mind telling me what that was about?"  
I spin around to face him.  
"I love this faction," I growl. "Dauntless is my home, but my little brother is NOT cut out for it."  
Brian pinches the bridge of his nose. "The only good thing about this whole mess is that you didn't agree to leave Dauntless for him. That's gonna work in your favor when the leaders watch this, but I suggest you figure out a way to cut back on the twenty minutes of crying and screaming I had to watch before this fear comes up again. Got it?"  
"Got it," I snap.

Back in the dormitory I grab the bottle from whoever hands it to me and gulp down as much as I can.  
"Why are you so pissed?" Bert asks, tugging the bottle away from me.  
I collapse to the floor and join their circle.  
"Brian's an asshole."  
"You wanna expound on that?" Ray asks.  
"It has to do with my fear."  
"Then I guess it can wait 'til Frank gets back."

We go around the circle again, naming our fears and drinking. It does seem to help, like a small bit of the tremendous weight on everyone's shoulders slides off when they expose their fear.  
I take the bottle and grip it tightly, raising it with stiff movements.  
"My little brother joined Dauntless and wanted to jump off the roof we jumped off of our first day. But there wasn't a net. I told him he couldn't do it and he asked me to be factionless with him. I told him that Dauntless was my home- and then he jumped."  
I don't drink. There's silence.  
"Why did you argue with Brian?" Bert asks.  
"He questioned my loyalty to Dauntless." I take a drink. "I love this faction but Mikey would not survive it. I chose Dauntless over him and he died."  
"Why did it take so long?" Frank asks.  
I glare at him.  
"Oh, him killing himself only lasted twelve minutes. Apparently the other twenty was me screaming, crying, and tearing my hair out. Brian told me to man up, basically."  
Someone sniffs and we all look around. It's Ryan, and there are tears sliding down his pale cheeks.  
I remember the Amity girl from our first day.  
"Oh, Ryan. I'm sorry, I didn't-"  
He holds his hand out for the bottle, so I pass it across our circle to him.  
He holds it up.  
"Anna was convinced she could fly and she wanted to jump off the Hub to prove it to me. I told her she couldn't, but she did it anyway." He takes a drink.  
We finish reciting our fears; Ray was paralyzed in a tub slowly filling with water, Frank had centipedes crawling out from under his nails, Brendon had his tongue cut out.  
We finish the bottle and toast to Dauntless.

I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see Mikey spreading his arms out, his glasses slipping down his nose, the wind whipping his hair around.  
Two beds down from me, Ryan is sobbing as silently as he can manage.  
Across the room I hear Brendon making choking noises in his sleep.  
Frank keeps tossing and turning, muttering "no, no get them off."

We try to look carefree at breakfast, but it's obvious we're faking.  
No one speaks in the hallway, but we do stomp our feet. The rhythmic pounding of bravery and courage follows each initiate toward their worse fears.  
Frank's lonely stomping gives me the strength to walk into the nightmare room. 

I hear screaming. I can feel the heat of a massive fire. I open my eyes.  
It's a train crash. The Dauntless train must have gone off it's rails, I realize.  
There's people all over the place. Blood and screaming and hunks of twisted metal.  
"Help."  
I turn to where I heard the weak cry.  
"Help!"  
I jog forward, toward the broken, flaming train car in front of me.  
"Hello?" I yell, climbing inside.  
"Here," they call back.  
I rush into the corner and I spot a hand. I shove at the hot, jagged metal until I unearth an arm and a torso and a head.  
"Help," Frank begs.  
"I'm trying," I tell him. The metal door laying over his lower half is too heavy for me to shift. "I can't move this, you have to help me."  
"You're supposed to help _me_ , Gerard," he insists.  
"I'm trying! I can't!"  
"I'm gonna die," he says calmly.  
"No, you're not. I'm not gonna let that happen." I shove at the metal door but it won't shift. "Come on, you gotta help me, Frankie!"  
"Why won't you save me?"  
"I'm trying!" I cry.  
"Are you not strong enough?"  
I stop pushing and look at him. He's relaxing, setting his head back on a hunk of metal.  
"Frank," I beg. "Frankie, come on!"  
"I can't," he sighs. His eyes slip shut.  
"God damn it, Frank!" I shout. "You're supposed to be stronger than me!"  
"It's okay," he says. Then he stops breathing.  
"No!" I scream.  
I grab his face but he's already gone. I squeeze my eyes shut.  
_It's okay_ , he said. _It's okay._  
I wasn't strong enough to save him, but... but it's okay.

"Eight minutes."  
I lift my hands up and find my face wet with tears. I brush them away quickly.  
"Eight minutes certainly makes up for yesterday."  
"Hurray," I mutter sarcastically.  
"Yeah, whatever. Look," Brian pinches the bridge of his nose again. The expression is getting old, fast. "I don't even want to know, alright? Just get out of here."

"I was falling and falling but there wasn't anything above me and nothing below me and I just kept... falling." Jeph takes a drink.  
Frank lifts the bottle in the air. "Train crash." Some of the boys nod and he doesn't explain any further. He takes a drink.  
I lift the bottle. "Train crash." I put the bottle to my lips.  
"What?" Ray asks.  
"What?" I retort.  
"Why was your fear about the train crash?"  
I scowl. "I was Abnegation, remember? Patrick and I, we ran in to pull people from the crash, the real one. In real life, I saved someone. In my fear simulation, I wasn't strong enough and they died. Can I drink now?"  
Ray nods, abashed.  
I take a swig and hand it over. I try to pretend I don't see Frank's hands shaking out of the corner of my eye.

"We're halfway through," Ray mutters. "Halfway."  
"I don't think I can do this for another week," Ryan slurs into his hands.  
No one is eating. No one can sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. We're all fading away. Breaking apart.  
"Why are they doing this to us?" Brendon asks.  
"It's the emotional phase," Frank says. His voice is shaky. Everything about him is shaky now; his voice, his hands, his breathing. "We have to be emotionally strong enough to make it through, or else we're not tough enough for Dauntless."  
"They're breaking us down to build us back up?" Quinn suggests.  
"Maybe after going through this, we'll be stronger." I shrug halfheartedly. "Maybe we'll be able to face our fears in real life without a second thought."  
"Jesus, I hope so," Patrick sighs.  
Pete puts his head on the table and no one tries to look confident or happy or brave.

I can't sleep. The darkness of the dormitory is pressing in on me. I can't think about anything other than Mikey jumping, Frank dying, needles, hornets stinging me over and over, being alone on a sinking boat in the middle of the ocean, or any of the other fears I've had to experience.  
I roll out of bed and set my bare feet on the floor. Half of the room is awake, but no one says anything as I slip out.  
The blue lights spaced unevenly through the hall help me find my way to a water fountain. I drink because I can't think of anything else to do.  
"Is it me?"  
I jump and spin around, hands coming up to defend myself.  
Frank is standing a few yards away, frowning at me.  
"What?" I ask, lowering my hands.  
"In your fear of the train crash, is it me that you can't save?"  
I try to dodge the question.  
"You never told us what exactly happened in your train crash simulation."  
Frank shrugs. "The train crashes and I can't get out and no one comes for me no matter how much I scream."  
I lean back against the cool rock wall.  
"Yeah. It's you in my fear."  
He takes a small step forward, almost like it's unconscious. "Tell me about it?"  
"Are you sure you wanna know?"  
He shrugs again. "Can't hurt, I guess."  
I frown. "I hear you calling for help and I run in to save you. I get the wreckage all cleared away except for the door...."  
Frank wraps his arms around himself, like he did the night we played paintball. Like he's hugging himself.  
"I try to get you to help me move it but you just tell me that I'm the one who supposed to be helping _you_. Then you just... you relax and say it's okay and you. You just die."  
He shuffles forward another step.  
"I wouldn't just lay back and die," he mutters.  
"I know that. It's just my fear that I'm not strong enough to save you."  
"Why would you care about saving me?" he asks. "It's not like we're friends."  
It's my turn to step forward now. "I didn't even know you when it actually happened. That didn't stop me from running in to save you."  
"You don't... in my fear. You don't save me." He looks at the floor. "No one does."  
"But just like you would never lay back and die in real life, I would never stop trying to save you in real life."  
He looks up. Somehow we've gotten really close to one another.  
"Would you still? Try to save me I mean, even though I've been a dick to you?"  
"Of course I would."  
"Is that because you're from Abnegation, or because it's-?"  
I don't remember moving my hand, but it's suddenly on his face. I touch his jaw and slide my thumb over his cheek.  
"-Because it's me?"  
"I worried about you, after the crash. I didn't think about anyone else- any of the other people in the crash. I just kept thinking about you."  
"Gerard," he mutters, leaning into my touch.  
"And then I saw you in the cafeteria, before the aptitude tests, and you looked at me. You remembered me. But then you just hated me and I didn't understand-"  
"You made me feel so fucking weak," Frank says, the words coming out half gasp and half sob. "I've never needed anyone's help before, but then I couldn't save myself and you showed up and you- you fucking dragged me out of a burning wreck and pulled your shirt off to try to stop the bleeding and-"  
I grin, almost. "You remember that?"  
The corners of his mouth lift up briefly.  
"And I opened my eyes and you were the first thing I saw and I just, I got over it. I pretended it didn't happen. Then I saw you again and you were staring at me and you were real and it just made me so angry that I needed to be saved."  
We're so close now, I can feel the heat of his skin.  
"It was easier to hate you for saving me than it was to hate myself for needing to be saved," he whispers.  
"I can't apologize for saving you, because I don't regret it," I say.  
He's looking up at me, eyes wide and sad.  
"I guess I never actually said thank you, huh?"  
"No, but you don't need to."  
He has to stand on his toes to reach, but he kisses me anyway. It's soft, we're barely touching. When his balance shakes I reach out with my free hand to steady him, and he presses closer.  
He pulls away for a second, blinks, then ducks back in. It happens a few more times and I think he's waiting for me to push him away, but I don't. I just hold him steady while we kiss.  
It doesn't go any further and neither of us says anything. At some point we hear footsteps coming from another hallway, so I grab his hand and we head back to the dormitory.  
Before I push open the door he stops me.  
"Don't- don't tell anyone, okay?" he begs softly.  
"Are you ashamed?" I ask.  
"No, I just want to get through initiation first, before anything else."  
I nod. "Okay, I won't tell."  
We kiss once more before sneaking back into the dormitory and climbing into our own beds.

"Last day," Jeph says.  
"Last day," Ray agrees.  
"Whatever happens next, at least this part is over," Patrick says resolutely.  
"Yeah, I'm fairly positive we can all kick stage three's ass after this," I say.  
"You swore," Patrick realizes.  
I laugh and it borders on hysteria. "Fuck yeah, I swore."  
Bert wolf-whistles at me and everyone laughs.

The atmosphere in our circle is cheerier then any other time we've confessed our fears to each other. There's an extra bottle today, because we're celebrating, and Ryan managed to get cookies from one of the chefs.  
"I've taught you well," Pete laughs, biting into a chocolate chip cookie.  
Ryan flushes and Brendon makes a cooing noise and throws his arm around Ryan's shoulders.  
Brian walks in and glares around our circle. Bert and Jeph halfheartedly try to hide the bottles behind their backs.  
Brian pinches the bridge of his nose.  
"I'm gonna pretend I didn't see any of that," he says. "I have your rankings."  
He wades through our circle and pulls down the chalkboard, wiping off the rankings from phase one. We all climb to our feet as he writes.  
He hangs the board back up and steps aside.

1\. Frank  
2\. Jeph  
3\. Bert  
4\. Gerard  
5\. Quinn  
6\. Pete  
7\. Brendon  
8\. Ray  
9\. Patrick  
10\. Ryan

"Second place bitches!" Jeph yells.  
Suddenly we're all piled on top of each other, hugging everyone and laughing and calling each other names.  
"Told you I could kick your ass, Gerard!" Bert yells.  
"My little brother could kick your ass!" I shout back.  
Ryan's somewhere in the pile and Brendon tells him that he's better than any of the other members, fuck the rankings. And that makes Ryan flush again and we all take turns hugging him. There's cookie crumbs everywhere and Jeph is finishing off one of the bottles of alcohol. Brian is rolling his eyes and leaving but we're all still laughing.  
Frank's hand finds mine in the mix and he squeezes so I squeeze back.

 

"Welcome to the fear landscape."  
"That sounds incredibly not-good," Brendon mutters.  
"Well, it's not called the rainbow landscape, Brendon," Brian shoots back.  
Everyone bites back giggles while Brian rolls his eyes.  
"Anyway, this is where your final test will take place. You will each enter this room under a modified version of the serum you were given for stage two. The difference being that while in these simulations, you will be fully aware that what you're experiencing isn't real. Basically, you'll know you're in a simulation."  
I look around the old, battered room, trying not to think about my fears.  
"You'll face all the fears you've experienced in stage two, and maybe a few new ones as well. The only way to get out of each fear is to slow your heart rate, or overcome your fear. For instance, if you're afraid of heights- jump."  
I can see everyone turning their gazes inward, examining their fears, wondering how to overcome them.  
"This stage is about mental preparedness, so you'll be given five days to consider your fears and work out how you'll overcome them. You'll enter one at a time and go through anywhere from ten to fifteen fears. The faction leaders will be wired in to watch and your scores will be based on how fast you move through your landscape."  
Brian walks over to a slim box and reveals ten syringes. I try not to wince.  
"Today you'll be practicing being aware in a simulation, but instead of your own fears, you'll be going through mine."  
Everyone perks up at that. I never even considered the fact that Brian had fears.  
He pulls out the first syringe and turns to Frank.  
"My first fear; drowning."  
It takes Frank a few minutes to figure out that he should swim deeper for the simulation to stop. It was odd to watch him think he was drowning when he was standing in a dry room.  
"Jeph, you're next. Carnivorous beetles."  
"Oh, come on," Jeph mutters.  
After Jeph freaks out for a moment then zens himself out of the simulation, it's my turn.  
"Gerard; bats."  
I make a confused face but let him inject me anyway.  
I find myself on a old, cracked road in the middle of the night. I can hear the swishing of bats all around me and I grin. I actually like bats.  
They start swarming around me but I just reach my hands up to touch their warm, hairy little bodies. They land on me and crawl around. I let them hang from my fingers.  
"Gerard?"  
I open my eyes to see Brian and the rest of the initiates.  
"Yeah?"  
"What the fuck?" Brian asks.  
"Um, I like bats."  
He looks at me like I'm crazy, shudders, and moves on.  
"Bert; kidnapping."

On the walk to the cafeteria for lunch, Frank hangs back to walk next to me.  
"Bats, huh?"  
"We had bats in our backyard in Abnegation. I used to sneak fruit off the table and leave it out for them."  
"That's really cool," Frank grins.  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah. Maybe after initiation, your first tattoo should be of a bat."  
"Hmm, maybe."  
"You think you'll actually get a tattoo?"  
"I figure a tattoo gun is way less awful than a three inch needle being shoved in my eye, so I'm actually not that freaked out by it anymore."  
"Ah, the wonders of Dauntless training," he giggles.

For next five days, the ten of us sit in a circle and brainstorm ways to defeat each person's fears.  
"I say you should just scream back at them," Patrick tells Pete. "Pick the rocks up off the stage and hurl them back into the crowd."  
"I love that sweet little Patrick is condoning violence now," Bert chuckles.  
"Simulation violence," Patrick says, then shrugs. "But yeah, whatever."  
"What do you think, Pete?" I ask.  
He purses his lips together. "I think it'll work. I mean like, fuck them anyway, you know?"  
"Definitely yell that at them," Quinn chuckles.

"So when it starts falling off, what's underneath?" Bert asks.  
Quinn shrugs. "I dunno, I try not to look."  
"Maybe you should look," Ray says.  
"You should do more than that," Frank adds. "You should just peel it all off yourself."  
Quinn shivers and touches his arms.  
"You'll know it's not real, so maybe if you want to find out what's underneath it, you won't be so afraid of it actually happening," Frank continues. "If you just shove all the skin off yourself, the simulation will know you're not afraid anymore."  
Quinn thinks about it for a moment, still touching his arms, then nods.

We talk about my needle simulation.  
"No, just- You're not tied down. Tell yourself you're not tied down and that you have a gun and then shoot those fuckers," Bert says, waving his hands around.  
I raise my eyebrows a bit. "I do really want to shoot them," I say, grinning.  
Jeph claps me on the back.

"Set them on fire," Brendon says, nodding excitedly.  
"Dude, some of them are under my _skin_ ," Frank shoots back, making a disgusted face. "I don't wanna like, mentally roast myself."  
"Just be nonflammable," Quinn says. "You can't burn but the spiders can, then light those motherfuckers up."  
"You guys are crazy and awesome," Frank grins.

"Give her wings," I tell Ryan. "So she can fly."  
"And punch your fucking dad in the face," Bert adds.  
"And tell him that your Dauntless friends will kick his ass if he ever shows up again," Brendon says.  
Ryan smiles at us, even though his eyes are swimming in tears.

"Explain it to me again," Ray begs.  
Jeph sighs. "He holds a gun to my head and tells me to shoot them and if I don't he'll shoot me."  
"Turn around and shoot _him_ ," Frank says.  
"Yeah, or just drop the gun and let him shoot you," Pete adds.

 

By the night before our final test, everyone is fairly confident in their ability to calm down or overcome their fears. Ryan taught us all a deep breathing exercise they use in Amity so we can use it in the simulations if our plans don't work.  
We all show equal support to each other, from Frank in his number one spot, to Ryan at the bottom of the list. I wonder if anyone even cares about the rankings anymore.  
Just as we're all about to climb into bed, Frank appears with a bottle. He sits on the floor.  
We all look around at each other and slowly join him, forming a circle.  
Frank unscrews the top of the bottle. It's apple cider instead of alcohol. We all agreed that we should keep our wits about us this week.  
He raises the bottle in the air.  
"I lied to you guys about one of my fears."  
No one says anything for a moment.  
"It's okay, Frank," I say.  
He keeps the bottle in the air, his eyes clenched shut.  
"I didn't have a fear of centipedes crawling under my nails. I should have been brave enough to tell you guys, especially after Ryan was brave enough to tell us his."  
My heart sinks and everyone is trading worried glances.  
"You can tell us, Frank," Ryan mutters.  
His face twists up, like he's about to cry.  
"My fear was my father telling me I'm not good enough for Dauntless, telling me I'm weak and pathetic and cowardly. Then he kicked me out and made me live factionless."  
He takes a drink but doesn't release the bottle. He opens his eyes but stares at the floor.  
"I figured I should at least tell you, since you're gonna meet him tomorrow."  
The Dauntless-born boys don't look shocked, but the rest of us glance at each other.  
"Frank?" I ask.  
"The Dauntless have three leaders," he says. "Jenna, Bryar, and my father."  
I flash back to the conversation he has just after the first rankings went up. I feel sick.  
"He's gonna be there tomorrow, watching, and I just-" He drinks more of the cider, his expression making it clear he wishes it were alcohol.  
"We'll be there too," Bert says.  
"You're ranked first, man," Quinn adds. "If anyone's Dauntless, it's you."  
"I don't know how to get out of the fear," Frank admits.  
"We'll be there," I say, repeating Bert. "Imagine us in the simulation with you, stomping our feet and cheering you on. You'll be brave enough to tell him to fuck off."  
"Yeah," someone mutters. Another person echos it. Suddenly we're all stomping our feet and Frank is wiping his eyes furiously.  
He sticks the bottle back in the air and we all fall silent.  
"To Dauntless," he says.  
"To Dauntless!" we all cry.

 

The entire compound is in chaos the next morning. Half the faction is drunk and the other half is quickly on it's way to joining them.  
The ten initiates push through the crowds to grab food, then we retreat to our dormitory to eat. Sitting in a circle one last time. Tomorrow we'll be picking our jobs and moving into apartments all over the compound.  
Eventually Brian comes to get us and we all stand up to face him. I expect him to make a speech or something, but he just nods at us and we follow him out into the hallway.  
We have to climb to the top of the Pit, up into the glass room that makes up the ceiling to the Pit. Hundreds of Dauntless are crammed in the space, cheering and clapping us on the backs. There are three huge screens hanging from the wall, one that shows a clock set to start running, one that shows the fear landscape room, and another that shows the Dauntless leaders, hooked up with electrodes and ready to watch us.  
Brian leads us into a side room where ten chairs are set up in two rows. Without a word, we all grab a chair and move them into a circle. Brian watches us closely as we do.  
"You'll be called in reverse order of your rank at the end of phase two," he tells us. "You'll go through all your fears, old and new, and you'll be timed. The leaders will be the only ones who can see your fears, but the rest of the faction is watching their reactions and yours. Be brave."  
He leaves for a moment to go speak to the leaders. The ten of us lean forward into a huddle.  
"This is it guys," Jeph says. "After this we're Dauntless, no matter what."  
"There's no way any of us will fail this test," Pete adds.  
"We're Dauntless already," Patrick says. "Fuck the test."  
Hearing Patrick finally swear seems to flip a switch in us, and all our nerves fly out of the room.  
"Dauntless," I mutter.  
"Dauntless!" they respond.  
Brian opens the door and stares at us. "Ryan."  
Ryan stands and we all stomp our feet in a pounding rhythm.  
"Give him hell, Ryan!" I shout.  
"Kick his ass!" Pete adds.  
Ryan walks into the fear landscape with his shoulders back and his head held high. We all immediately turn toward the screens.  
Brian injects him in the neck then leaves the room. We wait with bated breath until it's obvious that Ryan is in his first fear.  
"Which one is it?" Patrick wonders.  
"I think... I think it's being crushed to death," Quinn answers.  
We watch as Ryan finds the strength to push his way out of the mound of rocks he's trapped under. We cheer when he stands up again.  
"He's talking to someone," I mutter, ignoring Brian in the corner of the room, listening to us. "Either his dad or Anna."  
"It must be Anna, look," Frank says. "He's nodding. He gave her wings."  
"Jesus, she must be flying," Ray grins.  
We watch as Ryan faces twelve other fears, muttering to each other the whole time and cheering when he overcomes each one.  
Ryan suddenly raises a hand to protect his face.  
"It's his dad," Brendon says.  
"Come on, Ryan, fight back," Frank begs.  
It takes him a minute, but suddenly Ryan grabs something from the air, wrenching it away. Now he's shouting, punching the air in front of him. He points to himself, then gestures to the space around him.  
"We're in there with him," I realize.  
"You bet your ass we are," Brendon growls.  
Ryan blinks and looks around the empty room. He's out of the simulation.  
We start cheering and stomping our feet. He must be able to hear it through the door because he's looking up at the camera and smiling.  
"What was that?" Brian demands. We all turn to face him. "How did you know all his fears?"  
"We all know each other's fears," Ray tells him. "We helped each other come up with ways to get through them."  
I've never seen Brian look shocked before, but he certainly is now.  
"Uh," he says. "Patrick, you're up."  
We watch as each person goes through their fear landscape, overcoming each simulation or calming themselves down enough that the program moves on. We cheer every victory.  
Ray calms himself down while paralyzed and drowning.  
Brendon digs himself out of his own grave.  
Pete hurls rocks at the crowd, screaming at them.  
Quinn peels his skin off and starts laughing.

"Gerard."  
I stand up. Bert, Jeph, and Frank stomp their feet and cheer. I pause on my way out of the circle of chairs to bend close to Frank's ear.  
"I will always rescue you," I mutter.  
"I know," he answers.  
Brian leads me into the old room with flickering lights. He holds up a syringe.  
"Ready?"  
I nod.  
I barely feel the needle slip under my skin now. I shut my eyes and wait.

I'm flat on my back, strapped to a bed. I hear something click.  
"Fuck, fuck," I mutter.  
Doctors stream out from the darkness, holding up syringes.  
I spit at one of them and it lands on his blank face.  
_I'm not strapped to a bed,_ I tell myself. I pull at my restraints and they fall away. One of the doctors stumbles back when I punch them, then I reach under the bed and grab a gun.  
"Fuck you!" I shout, shooting them all in their eyeless heads.

I'm standing on the deck of a small boat, being tossed around my waves. My boat is sinking- I'm going to drown.  
"No," I say.  
I jump from the boat and start swimming for the ocean floor.

I'm in a field with knee high grass. A breeze flutters against my cheek.  
"Ow!" I yelp. Something stung my hand.  
_Hornets._  
I fall to my knees and shut my eyes even as I feel a dozen more stings. I clench my teeth so my can't get in my mouth, then start breathing. In. Out. In. Out.  
In.  
Out.  
The pain is incredible.  
I feel my heartbeat slow. 

I fight my way through four more fears.

I hear screaming. The heat from a massive fire is on my face.  
"Frank!" I yell.  
I'm by his side before he can even utter his first cry for help.  
"It's okay, I'm here," I whisper, grabbing his hand. "You're going to be fine."  
"Help me," he mutters.  
"I will. I'll help you. I'm gonna save you and you'll be safe."  
"I can't move..."  
"I know, It's okay Frankie."  
"Are you not strong enough to save me?" he wonders, staring up at me. His face is covered in blood.  
"I am strong enough," I assure him. "I'm just not strong enough here."  
He leans his head back and his eyes slip shut.  
"It's okay," he whispers.  
"I know it is, Frankie."  
He dies and I let go of his hand and walk out of the train car.

I step out onto a roof. The wind is blowing, pushing my hair into my face.  
Mikey is standing on the ledge. He looks back at me and I allow myself one small second of panic.  
"I'm Dauntless now, Gerard!" he squeaks.  
I smile. "I know you are, Mikey. I'm so proud of you."  
"I have to jump, so I can be with you," he tells me.  
I climb onto the ledge with him.  
"I know. We'll do it together, okay?"  
He nods and his glasses slip down his nose. I push them back up then grab his hand.  
"On three, right?"  
We look over the edge and I see the net that will save us.  
"Ready? One, two, three!"  
We jump.

I open my eyes and see the empty fear landscape room. Cheers and stomping are coming through the door, muffled but definitely there. I look up to the camera and smile.

Back in the glass room I'm immediately engulfed in a messy hug from the other initiates. They congratulate me, I congratulate them. We look up to the giant screens as Bert walks into his fear landscape and immediately curls into a ball to fight off his shrinking room.  
When he reaches us we cheer and hug him. We turn to watch Jeph.  
We all cringe when Jeph puts an imaginary gun to his own head and pulls the trigger, but when he walks out we engulf him just the same. Cheering for him.  
Frank is last and I can't stop myself from looking to the screen showing the leaders.  
His father is short but muscled, strong looking. His skin is tan and absolutely covered in tattoos. I want to hit him in the face but instead I look back to Frank's screen.  
The train crash is the hardest for me to watch. He's laying down, covered in simulation debris. He's calling out but I know no one is going to rescue him.  
Suddenly he's moving, pushing at the invisible metal and reaching up to grab someone's hand. He climbs to his feet.  
"What was that?" Quinn asks.  
"I rescued him," I say. "I told him I would."  
"What?" Bert asks, turning to me.  
I ignore him and watch the screen.  
Frank shoulders are hunched in, making him look smaller. He clenching his eyes shut and covering his ears with his hands. I know that his father is screaming at him.  
Frank starts shaking his head. He looks up, looks around him. He must see us standing with him, on his side. He grins and turns back to the space where his simulation father is standing.  
He starts screaming back, angry. He slams a hand against his chest then pushes his father away.  
I see his lips form the words _you're the coward!_ and then he blinks back to reality.  
I look to the leader's screen and see Bryar and Jenna shooting uncomfortable looks at Frank's dad. His dad's face is paler than it was before.  
I'm the first one to grab Frank when he exits the fear landscape and the two of us end up in the center of a group hug.  
"You saved me," he says in my ear. "You came and you- you dug me out."  
"Of course I did, Frankie."

 

Dinner is an absolute party. There's alcohol and cake and everyone's yelling and pounding their fists against the tables.  
Eventually Brian climbs onto a table and taps his fingers against a microphone.  
"Alright, alright, calm the fuck down."  
People laugh but almost all the chatter falls away.  
"We usually don't make speeches," Brian says. "But this year I actually have something to say."  
The room gets quieter.  
"This group of initiates went into training as a group, faction-born and transfer put together. They were told that none of them would get cut because of their rankings. I know that most of us expected them to turn out weak because of those rule changes, but I have to say that I have never seen a stronger or braver group of initiates.  
"Because we put them together, they formed alliances early on. Because we didn't threaten them with getting kicked out, they didn't turn on one another. Instead, they formed a solid team that worked together. They helped one another overcome each obstacle. When the rankings went up, they celebrated together. When someone fell down, they others helped them back up.  
He glares around the room.  
"'We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.' Teamwork is a trait that Dauntless seems to have pushed aside over the years as each of us tries to reach for the top. But these boys worked together and became stronger than they could have ever been alone.  
"They congratulated each other on their fights, even if they lost. They confided their fears in one another after each day of simulation training. They worked together to find ways for everyone to overcome their fears and because of that they have, combined, the highest final test score we've ever seen."  
Somewhere in the room someone starts cheering. The rest of the room catches on and Brian has to wait two minutes for the racket to die down.  
"I want you all, when you look at the rankings we're about to post, to forget about the numbers for a moment. That might be hard for some of you to do, since we've put so much stock in being ranked first for so long. But I'll remind you that I was ranked first in my own initiation, but if you put my score in with theirs, I would have placed sixth."  
The rankings go up and everyone starts cheering.

1\. Frank  
2\. Jeph  
3\. Gerard  
4\. Bert  
5\. Quinn  
6\. Brendon  
7\. Pete  
8\. Patrick  
9\. Ray  
10\. Ryan

The group hug is inevitable. Bert kisses me on the cheek and admits that I kicked his ass. Pete is high fiving Brendon. Frank is hugging Ryan and Ryan's squeezing back.  
It seems like an hour before the commotion dies down, but when it does Brian puts the microphone back to his lips.  
"Tomorrow these five men will officially become Dauntless members by choosing their jobs... and I know that whatever they pick, they will excel at it."

I lose track of things for a while in the celebration, but at some point I feel Frank pulling me away and into a secluded hallway.  
He leans up and kisses me, and I kiss back.  
"I'm so proud of you, Frankie."  
"I- I couldn't have done it without you, and maybe that makes me weak but-"  
"Hey," I tell him. "Did you hear anything Brian said? We're stronger because we're a team."  
"I know, I know," Frank gasps. "I just- fucking kiss me, alright?"  
I do, tugging him close and not letting him fall over. He wraps his arms around my neck and one of his hands finds it's way into my hair; twirling the black strands around his fingers.  
Someone coughs and we break apart.  
Frank's dad is standing a dozen feet away, arms crossed and looking stern.  
"Dad," Frank acknowledges. He doesn't let go of me so I don't let go of him.  
"Congratulations on your first place rank," the man says. "I wanted to tell you how proud I am and-"  
"Stop."  
"Excuse me?" he asks.  
"I don't care," Frank says. "I don't want your congratulations or your pride."  
His dad purses his lips and instead turns to me.  
"Congratulations on placing third, Gerard."  
"Thank you, faction leader," I say stiffly.  
"There's a job for you in my office if you want it," he adds.  
"I'll consider it, thank you."  
He shoots an unhappy look at Frank then turns and walks away.  
"It's a good job," Frank mutters. "You should take it."  
"What job are you thinking of picking?"  
Frank shrugs, his arms still around my neck. "We have weekly fights for entertainment here," he says. "I know Jeph is thinking about doing that. I might join him."  
"Really?"  
"Yeah. I like fighting. I'm good at it."  
"Yeah, you are." I kiss him again.  
"You didn't say what job you're gonna pick," Frank points out.  
"I dunno. Maybe I'll try to work my way up to faction leader someday. I think I'd really like to train initiates though."  
"Yeah?"  
I shrug.

We gather in the Pit the next day to select our jobs in front of hundreds of Dauntless members.  
Brendon picks tattoo artist. Ryan chooses the hair salon.  
Pete and Patrick both join the emergency response teams that travel to the city to save lives.  
Ray goes to work in the control room along with Quinn, monitoring security and coming up with better ways to protect people in the city.  
Jeph and Frank both become professional fighters.  
Bert goes to work under Jenna in her office.  
I accept Bryar's last minute offer of joining his office.

 

The ten of us leave the dormitory behind and move into our new apartments scattered all across the compound, but we still sit together for dinner every night.  
Frank and I move in together after our eighteenth birthdays so we can be together more often, though it takes a few more months for both of our train crash nightmares to go away.

 

I travel into the city on Choosing Day to watch Mikey pick his faction. He hugs me when he sees me. He's taller than me now.  
When his name gets called he walks into the center of the room and slices his hand. I hold my breath.  
He lets his blood fall in the dirt of Amity. I feel something inside me that's been hurting for years finally release. I let out my breath and smile.

 

After five years as a fighter, Frank retires and joins me in Bryar's office. I'm up for the vote of new faction leader by the age of 23.

 

After our initiation, new rules were put in place. They discarded the separation of faction-born and transfers and they did away with the ranking cuts. Brian and I train each new batch of sixteen year olds together.  
Every year our initiates come out of training stronger and stronger.

 

"Hey."  
I make an unhappy noise and pull the sheets over my head. Frank pulls them back down.  
"Hey," he insists.  
"What?" I whine, rolling over to look at him.  
He grins. "I had a dream about you, Mr. Faction Leader"  
"Oh yeah? A good dream or a bad dream?"  
"A good dream."  
"Are you gonna tell me what it was about?" I wonder.  
He giggles and I kiss him on the nose.  
"I could just _show_ you what it was about."  
"Oh, one of _those_ dreams, huh?" I laugh.  
He grins wider and I pull him close, the matching railroad tattoos that encircle our biceps match up when he lays on my chest. I kiss him hard and he threads his hands through my long, black hair.  
My home is Dauntless. My home is with Frank.  
And I have never been happier.

 

The End.


End file.
